Truth and Reality Duty and Conscience
by Harvey Bautista
Summary: Records of Agrias Oaks and Ramza Beoulve before, during, and after the Lion War.
1. 00 Prologue

v.1.1  
  
Disclaimer: Squaresoft and the design team who developed FFT own Final Fantasy Tactics. Even the 'random' characters therein are owned by them. Only the writing is mine.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
A chunk of this story (at this point) will take place using the in- game script. Pardon that, but I intend to stick to the storyline as much as possible. However, there will be explanations about the characters and thoughts, and needlessly said, my opinions will most likely not resonate with yours. Expect Chapter 1: The Meager to go by rather quickly or simply have retold through Ramza's words around a campfire. True deviation will occur beginning in Chapter 2: The Manipulator and the Subservient.  
  
If you enjoy Random Characters, be disappointed: they won't really appear (As to Alicia, Lavian, and Rad . . . they don't have stable roles in the storyline to begin with). Notes (statistics more like) on Ramza and Agrias follow the end of this 'chapter'.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Truth and Reality; Duty and Conscience Records of the heretic Ramza and the Holy Knight Agrias before, during, and after the Lion War.  
  
The Durai Papers had shed some light on the mystery of the faceless Ramza Beoulve, the last of an illustrious line which faded into obscurity after the Lion War. Truth, reality actually, from one perspective on this enigmatic figure whose historical importance had never been fully recognized.  
  
As detailed as they were, the Durai Papers were only one source of information, one source among many. Diaries, memoirs, tales: each is based upon a core of truth, and distorted through the lens of perception.  
  
They are many strands that can be wound together to create a link to the past.  
  
-Alazlam  
  
Chapter 00-01 ( Prologue, Scene I )  
  
***January 1st, Year 2. Orbonne Monastery Area***  
  
In the entry hall of the monastery, Agrias blocked the stairway that led up to the second story's balcony. "I will not intrude upon the Princess' worshipping."  
  
Growing annoyed at the delay, Gafgarion reached his left hand across himself. "By all means then, save yourself the trouble and let us do it for you."  
  
Seeing that the older mercenary was trying to provoke the Holy Knight inside a church, the timid Ramza reached out and touched the withdrawn Agrias. He instantly drew her attention, and a low snarl almost escaped her throat. "Excuse me, dame Agrias?" he addressed her. Her cool stare bade him to continue. "If we are to make it to Dorter Trade City by nightfall at a reasonable pace for the princess, we have to leave now." He phrased his statement carefully, wanting to get his point across without having to start an argument.  
  
Tentatively, the young man, little more than a boy, pulled back his grasp, and Agrias almost chuckled at his nature. It would have been funny had he not been dressed as a soldier, his hesitant actions out of place for a mercenary. Still, he did have a valid point. If the trip to Dorter Trade City was to be at a relaxed pace for the princess, they had to leave now. "I understand," she replied, "I'll see what I can do. . ."  
  
"Is she stubborn?" Ramza remarked, the smile on his face fading as Agrias glared at him. "I have a little sister at home who's the same way," he explained, an edge of sadness fading out the nervousness in his voice.  
  
Once more, Agrias Oaks was thrown off. The boy kept on doing things that offended her at first, but were actually harmless or helpful gestures. His remark about the princess, almost referring to her as one of the lower class, was bordering on disrespectful, but she noticed that he talked about Ovelia in more human terms, not just as a monarch; a symbol. She was tempted to say something back to Ramza, but Gafgarion's almost taunting expression kept her from commenting.  
  
Turning to take one more look at the puzzling boy, Agrias walked up the stairway with her right hand on the banister, trying to find out why the mercenary boy did not seem so threatening, yet dangerous nonetheless. With Gafgarion, there was no small amount of personal distaste mixed with conviction, while the other mercenary looked like a common thug.  
  
Reputation or not, only that Ramza boy seems trustworthy, Agrias thought, even then, he's hiding more than a 'normal' person should. She was ascending onto the second floor and walking down the extended balcony, which overlooked the interior of the chapel. She strode in to hear Ovelia pray, "God, please help us sinful children of Ivalice."  
  
Agrias stopped a grimace. Yes, the prayer was sincere and encompassed an altruistic vision, but such a thing to ask of the Lord? Why couldn't Ovelia pray for something more personal to her, something more tangible? the Holy Knight thought. Ivalice needed all the help it could get, Agrias knew, not wanting to think back to the Fifty Years' War. "Princess Ovelia," she addressed her protectorate, "let's go."  
  
The Holy Knight disapproved of the way Ovelia was on the raised edge of the balcony, the front having a ledge that sat above the side rails. It was overly dramatic to Agrias, who was more or less content to pray whenever she did not have her duties to attend to and wherever it was convenient.  
  
"Just a moment Agrias," Ovelia replied, seeming reluctant to leave.  
  
It was now Agrias' turn to be caught between two different sides, much like Ramza was. "The guards have already arrived," she said reasonably, adding a little firmness in her voice.  
  
Simon, the brown-robed priest by Ovelia spoke up, "Princess, don't give Agrias trouble. Please hurry. . ." he urged, giving Agrias a sympathetic smile.  
  
The peaceful scene was shattered as Gafgarion marched through the doorway, flanked by an indifferent Rad, the other squire, and Ramza, who looked at Agrias apologetically, as if to say sorry for not being able to stall his commander.  
  
"What's going on? It's been nearly an hour!" Gafgarion announced.  
  
The Holy Knight's reply was as cold as the Dark Knight's was heated. "Don't be rude to the Princess, Gafgarion," she told him, an edge in her words.  
  
Remembering themselves, Ramza and Rad went down on a knee as they bowed to the princess. Agrias noticed the difference between the two. Rad's was sketchy, though swift, but Ramza's was smoother, marked by genuine respect.  
  
"Is this going to be alright Agrias?" The Dark Knight asked, almost baiting her. "This is an urgent issue for us."  
  
Somehow, Agrias kept herself from lashing out. "So there are rude knaves even among the Hokuten?" she replied, reminding Gafgarion of his place.  
  
"I'm being more than kind to the guard captains here," the Dark Knight pointed out, practically insulting Ovelia's bodyguards. "Besides, we're mercenaries hired by the Hokuten," he pointed out, highlighting the nature of his association with the prestigious knight order. "I'm not obliged to show respect to you," he remarked as an insult towards the Holy Knight.  
  
Keeping her hands from straying to the sheathed Mithril sword on her left side, Agrias still bit back. "What? How dare you!"  
  
Ovelia, clad in her white robes, stepped in to stop the bickering, "Enough. Let's go," she declared softly, feeling dejected.  
  
Simon walked up to her and whispered, "Go with God."  
  
Accepting his blessing as a friend, she turned to him and said back, "You too, Simon."  
  
Another interruption occurred. A female knight stumbled in; one more of Ovelia's St. Konoe Knight's security detail. Her left arm was disabled, and the fletching of an arrow poking out from the gap it found between her pauldron and gorget. Another arrow had pierced her breastplate. Even with the upper body and upper arm protection the female knights wore, they had failed against the archer's who had hunted them. "Lady Agrias!" the knight called out as they came to her aid, "The enemy!" she screeched as she fell to her knees in agony.  
  
Simon spoke out, "Prince's Goltana's men!?" It was a guess on his part, one sparked by fear and logic.  
  
Forcing herself to ignore her injured soldier, leaving her care to the priests, Agrias rushed out the doorway and downstairs. She had more than one knight under her command.  
  
Ramza had already unclipped his scabbard and held it with his left hand. The mithril sword's straight blade made it hard to draw the sword from the hip.  
  
Gafgarion's reaction to the wounded 'ally' was indifferent. "What one must do to make money," he remarked, almost jokingly in his callous manner. He caught Ramza's moment of scrutiny. "What, Ramza? You have a problem too?"  
  
The boy declined to start an argument. "I'm no longer a Knight," he admitted to himself, his words ringing hollow, lacking sincerity and conviction. "Just a mercenary like you," he replied.  
  
Wondering whether that was an insult or resignation, Gafgarion chose to ignore it. "That's right. Well then," he addressed his two charges. "Let's go!"  
  
Ramza took a look back at Ovelia, wondering if he should leave their principal, before moving on. In that moment, he hated what he was doing.  
  
"Oh God. . ." Ovelia unknowingly moaned, not knowing if it was a prayer she sent out, or her doubts coming forth.  
  
Outside the monastery doors, two more female knights, Alicia and Lavian, were pinned down, hunkered besides the stonework, right outside the pillars of the partially subterranean hall. Above them, Agrias emerged, charging forwards with her gold-inlaid bronze shield held just below her eyeline. She was crouched, tilted forwards as she found shelter, expecting to be fired upon. The enemy archers did not disappoint her as two initial arrows deflected off her shield. The third was the wiser archer, waiting until she had stopped before letting loose and piercing her gold-inlaid mithril breastplate. Agrias gasped as the arrowhead punctured her armor. It did not penetrate fully, yet cut her skin. Angrily, she took her left hand, the one that held her shield, and used it to pull the arrow out. She succeeded only in breaking the head from the shaft. Now she had to deal with a cutting arrowhead rattling around between her thin linen blouse and armor. The fact that the softer material was the one that protected her skin did not salve Agrias' worries.  
  
Taking a look, Agrias saw at least three archers behind a lone knight. Instinctively she looked at the knight's shield, looking for his heraldry. "The crest of the Black Lion!?" Agrias gasped out as Ramza, Gafgarion, and Rad arrived onscene. Agrias was letting the battle get to her as she exclaimed. "What's wrong with Prince Goltana!? He's such an idiot! Does he want to start a war!?" she screamed out at the enemy knight, waiting for the next wave of arrows to bear down on her. The third archer continued to harass her, his arrows now coming in from a steep trajectory, stabbing the earth.  
  
She recognized the lone knight, having seen him before, fighting alongside her own unit then during the Fifty Years' War. Lezales, of the order of the Black Lion. The knight had the gall to offer terms. "Knave!" he addressed her, ignoring the mercenaries. "There's not point in resisting! Just give us the Princess," he paused, "or that beautiful face of yours will be scarred forever!" he declared, trying to get at her.  
  
Gafgarion interrupted her reply. "Fool! Only idiots attack head on!"  
  
Ramza had ignored the exchange, knowing any terms would have been ignored. He saw a knight, three archers, and a single chemist. While they had the edge now, once he and the others closed, the fight would be over, and the archers were too nearby to keep their distance. Still, he found what Gafgarion said questionable. They had just charged into an enemy trap.  
  
"Leave this to us!" Agrias snarled as she saw Alicia and Lavian make an end-run towards two of the archers. It was her way of saying that bloodshed was not necessary, not that the mercenary's help would not be missed.  
  
Gafgarion snorted. "We can't make money that way!" he remarked in an amused fashion, almost enjoying himself. "Rad, Ramza, Follow me!!" he declared as he led the charge.  
  
Ramza strayed as he ran over towards Agrias, who was still pinned down by the skilled archer. As he passed by her, he tossed her a small sack from the small chemist's satchel he wore at the small of his back over his dark purple bronze armor. Agrias wondered why he wore no greaves and sabot, but a pair of well-worn battle boots. The female knights wore less armor than the males because of the strength difference, and she tried to ascertain what the boy specialized in besides waving a sword around.  
  
"Kill them all!" Gafgarion exhorted, urging his own people. "Don't leave any survivors!"  
  
Agrias hurriedly drank the contents of the pouch as she followed, covering his flank. She saw him flinch as the archer that tormented her now knocked an arrow into her unrequited guardian, nicking him in the side, before he continued. "Nonsense!" she cried. "There's no need to kill them! That's just what Goltana wants us to do!" she reasoned, figuring out that the people sent against them were outclassed. "Just let them go!" she urged, knowing that none would escape, but her conscience demanding it of her.  
  
Knowing that the archer was out of her range, Agrias chose to target the lone enemy knight, Lezales. Already, Gafgarion had scathed him if she heard him right. The knight had given a fine account of himself. Which meant nothing in reality as he was completely outclassed. In melee he was a formidable foe. Against enemies who did not need to close to harm him, he was impotent. Yet already he had broken Rad's iron sword, forcing the squire back, who was now using a dagger coated with a blinding dye.  
  
"That's impossible!" Gafgarion stated, dismissing her offer of quarter. "Master of all swords, cut energy!" Gafgarion called out. "Night Sword!" With that attack, linked to the Yin-Yang magic of the oracle, the second archer was struck, having his health stolen from him and given to the Dark Knight, who shrugged off the single arrow hit he had taken.  
  
Agrias locked up the location of Lezales and targeted him with one of her own abilities. Focusing her energies, she began. "Life is short. . ." she declared, "bury! Steady Sword!" Divine energy arced into the heavens from her sword and came down upon the hapless enemy knight, stunning the target as the technique sometimes did. Agrias' assault forced the man onto his right knee, where Rad came in and buried his dagger in the gap between his gorget and breastplate. Lezales died without so much as a scream.  
  
Three against one; even a veteran of the Fifty Years' War would succumb, and Agrias knew that Gafgarion had fought in there too.  
  
When she focused back on Ramza and supporting him, she saw that as the enemy archer fell back and attempted to knock another arrow into his bow, Ramza had picked up a stone and hurled it at him, the rock striking the archer in the chin. It caused little damage, but it threw the archer's aim off as Ramza closed in. Giving up, the archer turned and fled, only that Ramza, wearing his worn battle boots, ran him down and with a timed thrust, pinned the archer to the ground.  
  
Agrias realized she didn't have to use her Stasis Sword ability to help finish the archer off as Ramza freed his sword from the fallen archer by twisting it in the process, using the momentum to propel him towards his next target: the chemist. Yes she would have slain the archer, but the cold, efficient manner in which Ramza committed the killing almost frightened her. The boy had gone from shy-boy to manslayer in a matter of moments.  
  
She had seen warriors like him on the field: on both sides. Skilled, dangerous, and open-hearted; their one flaw, one that they all shared. They were doomed to stay on the field till their deaths, never rotating out, always signing up for another tour of duty. Fighting with a sense of duty and conscience that none could match. She uttered a brief prayer for the boy, wishing that he would not share the fate of so many others that perished in Ivalice's ill-fortuned war.  
  
They were killers with a naive's face. Agrias always wondered if they were demonic angels or angelic devils. They were something in between: innocent and vicious; children.  
  
Ramza had turned his attention towards the chemist, who was coming at him with a dagger. Puzzled at the action of the battlefield medic, Ramza sidestepped slowly, watching out for the sole remaining archer, now running away from the two other knights and the other mercenaries. The chemist reached into his pouch and withdrew a feather; phoenix down. Skillfully deflecting Ramza's own sword, the chemist threw the feather as if it was a weighted object. As it settled onto the fallen archer that Ramza slew, it disappeared. Doing so, the archer was resurrected, but in critical condition.  
  
"Agrias, there's no one protecting the princess!" Ramza urged the Holy Knight as he coldly drew a mithril dagger from his sword-arm's sleeve and in hurled it into the crouched archer's throat. The man died for a second time as Ramza's next strike disarmed the chemist; the leverage he had with the mithril sword defeating the chemist's grip on his own dagger.  
  
Clutching his cut forearm, the chemist accepted defeat, going down on his knees. As Agrias and Lavian, one of her remaining knights, was rushing back towards the monastery, she turned back and saw the posture Ramza was in, his sword still bared, standing over the kneeling chemist. Unable to see his eyes, but knowing his overly calm expression, Agrias began to cry out to spare the man, remembering Gafgarion's expression.  
  
The battle had been won, and of the five foes, only the chemist remained breathing.  
  
Before she had finished her cry, Ramza went and unclipped the chemist's belly-satchel and after tossing it aside, pushed the chemist onto the soft earth into a prone position. Only then, after Rad had come over wielding Lezales' mithril sword, did Ramza sheath his own weapon after cleaning it with a cloth he wore around his waist as a sash.  
  
He looked towards Agrias, who was still going back to the monastery, and she saw Ramza's face shift with realization of what she thought and pain briefly blossomed on his face. She followed his gaze towards the archer he had slain twice over, and he cleanly removed his dagger from the corpse's torn throat, closing the man's eyes before he cleaned the weapon, coated in the man's blood on the same band of cloth he used to clean his sword.  
  
A dull scream is heard from behind the chapel, a feminine scream.  
  
Agrias and her knights begin to run in that direction, to enter the monastery, and Ovelia's voice is now clearly heard. "Let go of me!" she demanded, being forced by a knight clad in gold-hued armor. He also wore the crest of the Black Lion.  
  
Agrias was running into the monastery's chapel, with Ramza picking up the fallen archer's bow and quiver, walking over to cover the rear of the monastery. "Damn!!" the Holy Knight cursed.  
  
"Come here! Be quiet!" the dark-haired knight told her, failing to keep his own voice down.  
  
"Why should I listen to you!?" the princess spat back. She continued to struggle against her kidnapper.  
  
The young knight had enough. "What an annoying princess," he declared, striking her with a gauntleted fist in the stomach as she struggled. He picked her up and deposited her on his plain yellow chocobo, The oversized bird looking anxious, sensing something amiss. He mounts the other Chocobo and prepares to make his escape as Agrias comes out of the chapel's rear entrance.  
  
"Wait!!" she cried helplessly, beginning to lock him up with her sword, preparing to use her Stasis Sword to delay him. Ovelia's immediate safety was not in question. Not unless the knight was a fool, not simply ruthless as he was when he used his comrades as a diversion.  
  
As the knight turned to look at her, an arrow pierced the side of the young knight's Chocobo. The bird went down but stood up again, cawing in agony as the missile's shaft was fully embedded in its side, tearing into its organs, only the fletching exposed. Turning around, the Chocobo used its curing ability on itself, alleviating some of the pain, but not removing the cause of damage, only delaying the inevitable until real treatment could be given. Through it all, the knight kept himself mounted. Agrias held her breath as the second arrow arrow hit the bird low and forwards in its breast. It wasn't near to Ovelia, but she felt anger towards the 'friendly' archer nonetheless.  
  
"Tough. . ." the young knight let out, "don't blame us. . . Blame yourself of God," he told the Holy Knight, still closing her distance as he urged his mount to run off, sprinting away, still stable, but only for so long.  
  
Agrias stopped her pursuit, knowing it was hopeless. "Oh, God. . ." she murmured, staring helplessly as her unconscious charge was carried away.  
  
Ramza, still in front of the monastery, un-knocked the bow he had taken from the archer he slew. He had hurt the chocobo badly, enough to slow the enemy down. He too was numb. ". . . Delita??" he said out loud, remembering the name. "You're alive, Delita?" he asked. "But, why are you in Goltana's troops? Why. . . ?"  
  
***  
  
Within minutes, the chemist had been secured by the priests of the monastery and local squires in the constabulary. The mercenaries and three remaining knights from the order of St. Konoe hailing from Lesalia, the capital, recuperated from the battle.  
  
It was Gafgarion who spoke first concerning what Ramza had said. "So Ramza, you know who kidnapped her?" It wasn't a question, it was a demand.  
  
". . ." Ramza didn't reply. It was part of their agreement. No one had a past in the mercenary group he was in. Tempted as he was, he would not reveal his origins, not now, and especially not to a man like Gafgarion.  
  
Light footsteps followed as Agrias walked out the front of the monastery. She was clad in the tunic she wore underneath her breastplate and heavy leather 'corset'. Ramza's eyes widened slightly as he saw where she had been cut multiple times by the same arrowhead.  
  
"He's taking Princess Ovelia with him," she told Ramza's group as well as her own knights. "Can't be that far," she said, knowing it was of little substance.  
  
Of course, Gafgarion picked up the slack in conflict. "Are you going after him?"  
  
Ramza grew alert, sensing another argument. Just after a battle. . . blood would taint holy ground once more. It was a rhetorical question, one meant to draw a reaction, not a response.  
  
The Holy Knight did not even bother to face him as she replied. "Of course! I couldn't face the royal family unless I do!"  
  
Ramza felt the urge to strike Gafgarion. Either the Dark Knight and the Holy Knight knew each other in the past, or the man was just good at provocation.  
  
"We won't help you," Gafgarion told her, almost petulantly. "It's not in the contract," the aging mercenary continued.  
  
Giving Ramza a brief look of apology, Agrias struck back with a delayed response. "We don't need help from one who's not even a knight!" she told the mercenaries, knowing that she was being drawn into an argument. "A knight must fix his own mistakes. That is one of our responsibilities as guards!" Agrias paused, knowing she just opened herself up for a strong rebuke for her failure. "Lavian, Alicia," she called, "let's go!"  
  
The two knights simply kept silent, not wanting to be drawn into the argument. Detestable as most of the mercenary group assigned to them were, they did comprise a lot of their current strength and it would be foolish to let them go at this critical juncture.  
  
Simon limped out of the entrance. His robes were still flecked with the knight's blood. At Agrias' worried glance, he nodded, signaling that her fallen knight was still alive and was recovering.  
  
"Are you all right, Milord?" she asked him, knowing he had tried to resist the young knight when he kidnapped Ovelia.  
  
Politely, the old priest shrugged off her concern for himself. "The Princess. . . how is she?" he asked, knowing that the kidnapper had gotten away.  
  
Agrias kept herself from showing open frustration. Taking a breath, she composed herself. "I'm very sorry," she said formally. "I swear I'll get her back!" she vowed.  
  
It was now Simon's turn to look at her with concern. ". . . No. You'd be in danger. . ." he said, looking at the others.  
  
Shaking her head, Agrias continued. "Don't worry. I swear on my knight's honor - I'll save her!" she declared.  
  
Ramza found his conviction resonating with hers. Forestalling the justified insult Gafgarion was going to launch, Ramza spoke out. "I'll go," he paused, "too!" Agrias gave him a baleful look, her sincerest one since before the incident. "I won't be a burden!" he said unnecessarily.  
  
The look he gave Gafgarion was clear. If he was opposed on this issue, he would break away from the mercenaries without a second thought, and Gafgarion's team would lose a significant amount of its lethality. Also, by default, Ramza knew that the mercenary's were obliged to assist the St. Konoe knights under the contract with the Hokuten.  
  
Ramza knew that somehow, Gafgarion had searched him out there where he had started a new life in Dorter. The Dark Knight who he was just a year ago. Somehow, Ramza thought that Gafgarion sought him out for a reason.  
  
Though Ramza knew it was inevitable that they had to chase after Ovelia, he was not about to let his current superior to aggravate the Holy Knight any further. It was not only loutish, but it was in direct violation of her duty.  
  
Every single particle of the painfully-earned wisdom Ramza had screamed at him that he was being foolish, that he was allowing himself to be drawn to someone who had this moral cause, Agrias in this case. Ramza's duty was to protect the princess, and his conscience was with protecting Agrias. He would preserve the only thing he had left of real value to himself: his integrity.  
  
Grudgingly, Gafgarion gave in. "Are you crazy?!" he addressed the boy. "This' none of our business!" he pointlessly said, knowing that he was bound by the terms of the contract.  
  
Ramza changed the direction of the argument to that of the young knight he had seen. "I have to know!" he said irrationally, knowing it would throw Gafgarion off his tirade. "I must see it with my own eyes!"  
  
Agrias felt grateful to the boy, yet puzzled as well as to why someone who spilled blood for gil would so willingly devote themselves to the task she had assigned to herself. Such earnestness was not admirable; that kind of righteousness, especially in one in that boy's role, was dangerous.  
  
Figuring out what Ramza meant, Gafgarion addressed him again. "You mean, that boy you saw?"  
  
Ramza only fingered the hole in his breastplate's waist caused by the third archer's missile, nodding.  
  
"You're as stubborn as a mule," the Dark Knight told the boy. "Don't come crying to me for help if something happens!"  
  
"Ramza. . . I welcome your offer to accompany me in my task," Agrias told him. "How do you know the other knight?" she asked.  
  
Reluctantly, Ramza answered. "He was a friend, a dead friend."  
  
Gafgarion spoke. "If that boy's is one of Goltana's men, he won't risk going through populated areas, and it's a long way from Zeltennia or Lionel. He'll bypass Dorter Trade City, but its harsher terrain and he'll be slowed down, unless he switches Chocobo.  
  
"Those men also came here by Chocobo, Agrias," Ramza told the Holy Knight. "It would have made all the difference if they attacked us while mounted. . . but they didn't. Delita could have used any three or more of those chocobos as reserves whenever the ones I struck give out."  
  
"Or he may have forgotten about them," Rad supplied.  
  
Agrias' reply came low. "I understand the need for you to hamper his mobility. . ."  
  
"I accepted the consequences of my action when I knocked my first arrow into that bow," Ramza stated. His voice lacked guilt, but was filled with blunt honesty, even in his weak tone. He did not say more, not excusing himself. The silence was the best answer for her.  
  
"Good shot. . . both of them," Rad said, only further irriating the Holy Knight. His action of looting the corpses earlier only validated her opinion of the other mercenaries.  
  
Ramza had gone through their bodies too, but she noticed after her initial outrage had faded when she realized that he looked for papers of their identity and allegiance. The only equipment he ransacked was the fallen archer's weapon and ammunition and the contents of the chemist's satchel. Both of them were essential equipment, which Agrias realized might be necessary in their pursuit.  
  
Shaking his head, Gafgarion began, "We might as well leave now. There wouldn't happen to be any chocobos around would there?"  
  
"No, there aren't. We'll have to go to Dorter on foot," Agrias told them as she went back into the monastery with her knights.  
  
Gafgarion snorted as the women disappeared from sight. "That knight will have to cross the wilderness. He has to avoid civilization until he reaches the border of Lionel. He won't risk going through the capital to make it to Zeltennia."  
  
"What if the wilderness gets him first?" Ramza asked.  
  
The Dark Knight regarded him warily. "When you signed up to be a mercenary, Ramza Ruglia," he emphasized, "you had no past." He warned the armored squire, "Like you, that boy is a ghost. Kill anything holding you back before it kills you."  
  
***  
  
Several minutes later, Agrias emerged refreshed and ready to begin the pursuit. Within the monastery, she had seen to her fallen knight and had her own injuries thoroughly healed in preparation for the journey. Instead of donning her full suit of armor, which gave her excellent upper- body protection, Agrias opted only to wear the cuirass portion of her gold- inlaid mithril plate armor. Over this was a green Wizard's Robe trimmed in amber. Her thickened blue clothing was replaced by a thin, gray linen blouse, under which, she wore thin leather pants.  
  
Gone was the barrel helmet with a crossguard that she would have normally worn. Instead, Agrias chose to don the robe's cowl. The sleeves had been tailored to be widened, allowing her concealed arms freedom of movement, and the hem reach only just below her knees as well. Her own gold-inlaid shield had been replaced by a small buckler that she wore concealed.  
  
Alicia and Lavian were likewise disguised.  
  
Lavian had changed out to a lighter piece of armor, a cuirass with a lining of linen and a sturdy outer shell of bronze. Her shield was now a plain bronze shield.  
  
Alicia wore the attire of a meager squire, wearing toughened leather battle-clothing. She had no shield at all, only having her longsword sheathed at her right side. She wore the bulky belly satchel taken from the enemy chemist.  
  
"And the number of mercenaries double," Gafgarion chuckled. "Can't have Princess Ovelia's security detail running around away from the capital without their ward, can we?" he remarked dryly, meaning that all the resources the would have to contribute to their pursuit was what they had now.  
  
"Its enough," Ramza threw into the conversation before Agrias could be provoked. "An excuse could be made about Princess Ovelia delayed by sickness, and isolated in convalescence."  
  
Mentally, the Holy Knight thanked the armored squire for his understanding. "For the time being, we are no longer of the St. Konoe knights."  
  
Simon walked towards them with a chocobo laden with baggage. "I hope these stores will be enough to sustain you in your mission."  
  
Agrias bowed as she took the Chocobo's reins. "We'll make it last or get more on the way," she told him.  
  
"Too bad the local chocobo's are too tame to make good time across the wilderness," Alicia noted, patting her satchel.  
  
Rad grumbled. "It wouldn't matter unless one of us knew how to track them."  
  
"Goltana's men may have had a route here," Gafgarion told them, "but we don't." Taking a look at Agrias, he continued, "plus we don't have enough time to glean the information from that chemist."  
  
A pained look crossed Agrias' face. "Don't tempt me with the option of torture, mercenary," she warned. "Besides, we would have no way to make sure the chemist wasn't lying to us."  
  
Without missing a beat, Gafgarion replied, "I forgot. . . you were from the church. You people would know about interrogation and 'truth' more than a 'stray' mercenary like me could." Agrias refused to take the bait, but Lavian's expression of fury was unmistakable in her plain face. "I'll stop now. . . lest I be labeled a 'heretic', hm?"  
  
Stifling a prayer to have the Pagan Examiners investigate Gafgarion himself, Agrias chose to bear the abuse. The mission came first. Duty to Ovelia superceded all other concerns. She felt shamed by even considering Gafgarion's suggestion. The Holy Knight was proud of her faith, but she would not be the last to deny that the some of the people of that same faith were sinister in their zealous fervor.  
  
She looked up when she felt the reins she held being tugged forwards, and the chocobo she held beginning to march. She found herself staring at Ramza. "If everything's here. . ." he told her, "we can talk more of the mission on the way to Dorter."  
  
"I thank you," she told him.  
  
Subtly, he turned his face towards the chocobo, looking across Agrias' field of vision. "I bear just as much fault as you in this," he told her. "I should have stayed behind and hidden the princess in a safe place."  
  
She felt compassion, not sympathy, from the boy, and she chose to accept it. "I abandoned my duty first," she relieved him of the responsibility. "It is done. . . I will redeem and fulfill my duty by getting her back. . ." Agrias felt a little hope buoy her dire mood. "Even if you are bound by your contract, I appreciate your effort."  
  
". . ."  
  
"My duty demands that I see Ovelia safely to where she belongs, and yours is to help me in that role. Your conscience compels you to correct what is wrong, mine will not allow me to abandon her," Agrias told him, speaking normally now, not caring what the others behind them would think of the conversation. "Your reasons are as valid as mine. . . but there is something more."  
  
Looking over at her behind the Chocobo's large neck, Ramza nodded. "You wish to know why Goltana would abduct the princess. I wish to know why the dead is among the living. We're searching for truth, and its very different from reality."  
  
***  
  
To be continued  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Hm, more changes made and portions added.  
  
In case you were wondering, yes, for a significant part I will use the in-game script. Why? Because that's how it happened IN THE STORY.  
  
However, the scenes in between are the ones I will take artistic license with. Also, as to what happens in the battle, that is something that is variable.  
  
Running into trouble with Ramza here. Granted after the tour of duty he served in Chapter 1 while fighting the Death Corps, he would have learned a lot, remember, that chapter and the aftermath spans almost a year. That's a lot of time for him to harden.  
  
Also, note the difference between the Ramza of The Meager, The Manipulator and the Subservient and onwards. The immediate post-Gariland Ramza is very ignorant and arrogant. The later Ramza's are still incredibly dense, but at least are on the right path morally.  
  
Its annoying, Agrias and Gafgarion came off as petulant in the game at this point, and I am trying to break them out of that.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
*** *** *** *** Technical Details:  
  
Ramza 'Ruglia' Primary Job: *Squire  
Let's face it, this is HIS job. Makes quite a bit of sense actually. Not just story-wise, but also in-game. This basically means that its feasible to turn Ramza into anything - He's a Super-'Generic' character. The ones you pick up, invite, or hire, which you train for a specific role or multiple jobs.  
  
Of course, he wields a sword constantly in the story and he always wears armor post 'Chapter 1: The Meager'.  
  
That limits the range feasibly to a class that must equip a Sword and wears Armor:  
  
*Squire - Guts! (lots of miscellenaous goodies) *Knight - Battle Skill (Break Stuff)  
  
With the Equip Armor ability (the Knight), you can stretch it to:  
  
*Geomancer - Geomancy (but Ramza never struck me as touchy-feely Nature Boy)  
  
He came from Magical City Gariland; a training academy. I assume that the boy has passing familiarity with the basic (low-requirement) jobs:  
  
*Chemist (Healing Items) - *Wizard (Black Mage) *Knight - *Archer (Charged-Shot)  
  
Forget *Priest (White Mage).  
  
Ramza's job development in 'Chapter 1: The Meager' will lead him from *Knight to *Archer to *Thief (Steal Stuff). A perfect choice seeing as Ramza seems martial, and Archery is one of those skills. As well as seeing as what happens at the end of 'Chapter 1: The Meager', Ramza pretty much runs away and I figure he would pick up thievery skills while surviving on his own until he runs in Gafgarion.  
  
Ramza Beoulve Primary Job: *Squire Skill Aptitudes: Guts! (*Squire)  
Accumulate (+1 Attack Power)  
Throw Stone (Duh. . .)  
Wish (Heal Target 2X life, lose X life)  
Heal (Cancel - Blindness + Poison)  
Yell (+1 Speed) Battle Skill (*Knight)  
Weapon Break  
Shield Break  
Power Break (-3 Attack Power)  
Speed Break (-2 Speed) Charge (*Archer)  
Charge +1 (One-Shot +1 Attack Power)  
Charge +5 (One-Shot +5 Attack Power) Steal (*Thief)  
Gil Stealing (Rob Money. . .)  
Steal Weapon  
Steal Shield  
Steal Helmet Reaction Abilities: Weapon Guard (*Knight) Support Abilities:  
Equipment Change (*Chemist) [He's already used this in the story]  
Equip Armor / \  
Equip Sword | *Knight |  
Equip Shield \ /  
Concentrate (*Archer) [NEVER miss the target]  
Equip Bow (*Archer) [Screw just the crossbow!] Move Abilities:  
Move +1 (*Squire)  
Jump +1 (*Archer)  
Jump +2 (*Thief)  
  
I just hope this doesn't make Ramza TOO uber. As it is, for most of those jobs, he has the bare-bones skill sets. Its obvious that he has the highest investment as a Knight, but lets face it - He's a Beoulve, its what he was supposed to be anyways. If anything, that fact that he doesn't have super-attacks like Agrias, Gafgarion, Meladioul, Wiegraf, and the brother Beoulve is a neat fact. It encourages the player to spread Ramza out into at least one other class. (*Monk or *Lancer is best).  
  
NOT ALL OF THESE ARE ACTIVE. For example, Ramza can't switch between a bow and a sword simultaneously, or Ramza can't have a fully-equipped Chemist satchel on him. A small pouch with a couple of potions, some phoenix down, and echo grass maybe.  
  
Ramza does not use a Rod either, and even his magic spells are hampered since his stats are based on his Squire aspect (Low MP and Low Magic Attack).  
  
Still, Ramza might have a shorter bow and a quiver as secondary weapons along with a dagger.  
  
Later on, Ramza becomes a *Dragoon (*Lancer) [Spear-wielding Jumper that has armor].  
  
Example of a typical loadout:  
  
Helmet: Iron Helmet Armor: Bronze Armor (It has to be plate of some sort, not mail) Right Hand: Mithril Sword (Miluda's) Left Hand: Empty (double-handed grip) Accessory: Battle Boots (Move +1)  
  
Actual Game Ability Loadout:  
  
Job: *Squire Primary: Guts! (*Squire) Secondary: Steal (*Thief) or Battle Skill (*Knight) (Depends on what you want to do) Reactionary: Weapon Guard (*Knight) Support Ability: Concentrate (*Archer) (Make sure the ability works on target) Movement: Jump +2 (*Thief) or Move +2 (*Thief)  
  
(Note the pattern of skill development. . .)  
  
That loadout turns him into a 5 Move, 5 Jump 'hopper'(The 'Baller') or a 7 Move, 3 Jump 'sprinter' (The 'Kenyan'). Not bad. Agrias would still be a 4 Move 3 Jump. Ramza's supposed to be a *Lancer soon anyways. Hey, its an armor class that comes from the archer and thief branch. . . weird.  
  
Agrias Oaks Primary Job: *Holy Knight (Zap things from afar with Holy Elemental attacks that sometimes have status effects)  
  
Ah, the story's heroine. . . for one Chapter at least (one bad thing about FFT's openness, critical characters sometimes only appear in one chapter). I'm struggling not to turn her into a Damsel-In-Distress, or a foil for Ramza. Yes, while I want the two to be together, and they are my sponsored pairing in Final Fantasy Tactics. . . I want the relationship to be on an equal basis.  
  
Agrias can kick Ramza's ass.  
Ramza can kick Agrias' ass.  
  
Let's keep it that way.  
  
Ramza specializes in his versatility and relies on his Brave (affects physical attacks/defense/reactions, I use him as a physical attacker), and Agrias relies on her Faith (Magic Sensitivity - positive and negative feedback).  
  
They compliment each other.  
  
Obviously, she's a holy elemental. There are only two things Agrias needs to learn. Her own sword skills as a Holy Knight, and the White Magic skills she'll acquire as a *Priestess (White Mage). To make it more believable, she should know Battle Skill as well including the *Knight's other abilities.  
  
Her Holy Sword skills comes from both White Magic combined with Battle Skill. Granted she's not Meladioul, but she's not limited by equipment, and her sword attacks are Holy Elemental.  
  
Storywise, Agrias is anywhere from 3-5 years older than Ramza, and I assume she's possibly 4 years older. This woman has fought in the Fifty Years' War while Ramza was just beginning his first years in the Academy at Magical City Gariland. She should have passing familiarity with the *Chemist and *Archer jobs as she was in the battlefield, but I figure she'll stick to Holy Sword and White Magic as well as some Battle Skill.  
  
She's more mature than Ramza is, and is actually jaded about most things. In a way. She's just very cautious and prudent while Ramza still seems to have hope in humanity, or rather, the good in everyone. While she may seem immature at this point in the story, she's under a lot of stress while Ramza is pretty much getting used to being a mercenary.  
  
As is, Agrias is kickass. She has the ability to Zap things long away with FREE MAGIC ATTACKS. Her MP is reserved for White Magic. Plus, her 'Squire' class is *Holy Knight which has a fair Physical Attack : Magic Attack ratio. Sadly, you'll have to make sure both are high since her Holy Sword will use Physical Attack while her White Magic will use Magic Attack. Unlike Ramza, she didn't have to pick a career branch.  
  
Agrias Primary Job: *Holy Knight Skill Aptitudes: Holy Sword: (*Holy Knight - Agrias' base class: think of *Squire)  
*Stasis Sword (May add - Stop)  
*Split Punch (May add - Death Sentence)  
*Crush Punch (May add - Dead) White Magic: (*Priestess)  
Cure  
Cure 3  
Raise (Magic Phoenix Down)  
Protect (Physical Protection)  
Shell (Magic Protection)  
Wall (One-Person Shell + Protect)  
Esuna (Heals Buko amounts of Negative Status Effects) Battle Skill: (*Knight)  
Weapon Break  
Power Break  
Speed Break  
Mind Break (Anti Magic Attack) Reaction Abilities:  
Weapon Guard (*Knight)  
Regenerator (*Priest) [Adds Regen - life-gain] Support Abilities:  
Defend (*Holy Knight)  
Monster Skill (*Holy Knight) [Boosts Monsters]  
Magic Defense Up (*Priestess)  
Equip Armor / \  
Equip Sword | *Knight |  
Equip Shield \ / Move Abilities:  
Move +1 (*Holy Knight)  
  
Black Magic is not something Agrias would not dabble into. She won't even progress into Yin-Yang magic (what comes after White Magic -*Priestess to *Oracle- which is what Gafgarion specializes in), though she might become a *Mediator, but doubtful.  
  
Agrias has no reason to use a bow since she has her own ranged attacks. Also, since she specializes as a White Mage (*Priestess), the items of a chemist aren't necessary since she can heal, resurrect, and cancel out negative status effects. More versatile than an *Archer and a *Knight combined, but slightly inferior compared to a *Chemist's healing potential  
  
Actual Game Item Loadout: (Chapter 00 and beginning of Chapter 02)  
  
Helmet: Cross Helmet. (Armor. . . but replace it with Alma's barette soon) Armor: Wizard's Robe (Screw the armor, the Magic Attack is what you want) Right Hand: (Mithril Sword at this point) Left Hand: Most Powerful Shield you have that has Magic Defense. (Mithril Shield as opposed to Gold Shield - you don't have a mantle in this loadout) Accessory: Diamond Armlet (Physical Attack and Magic Attack Booster, more valuable than a mantle).  
  
Actual Game Ability Loadout:  
  
Job: *Holy Knight (Actually her *Squire equivalent) Primary: Holy Sword (*Holy Knight) Secondary: White Magic (*Priestess) Reactionary: Regenerator (*Priestess) Support: Monster Skill (*Holy Knight) (lethal with a Chocobo supporting her - a Black Chocobo to be precise) Movement: Move +1 (*Holy Knight)  
  
***Author's Notes*** 


	2. 01 Familiarization

***Pre-Story Notes***  
  
This the next sequence of 'original' scenes. Huzzah. Well . . . with a 'retelling' (not a flashback) by Ramza.  
  
In case you were wondering, I will not be covering the in-game story scenes that do not involve Agrias and Ramza. Meaning, none of the vignettes in Igros Castle or Zeltennia.  
  
Revisionary Notes: (Relating to the Prologue, not this scene)  
  
Delita only had ONE Chocobo.  
Agrias went through the monastery instead of around it.  
  
***Pre-Story Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-02 (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 02)  
  
***January 1st, Year 2. En Route to Dorter Trade City***  
  
The pursuit group of six walked at a brisk rate towards the first waypoint in their journey. Gafgarion walked confidently ahead on the raised dirt road, with Alicia and Lavian following behind in single file. Holding the baggage Chocobo, Agrias and Ramza walked together, side by side. It was Rad who brought up the rear. "We'll arrive just before the sun begins to set, but I won't be caught dead at night in Araguay Woods," the squire announced.  
  
Gafgarion chuckled, "I forgot to tell you this little hole in your plan, Agrias. They may not notice you, but people might recognize me."  
  
"It can't be helped, and you've been known to abandon-" Agrias began to reply dully before she was cut off.  
  
"-Delay," Gafgarion interrupted, amused that the Holy Knight bit back.  
  
"Irrelevent. None of us resemble Ovelia in the first place and the rest of you look like mercenaries."  
  
Ramza joined in. "It would make sense. Agrias already looks like the principal," he pointed out.  
  
Lavian looked back at her leader. "Alicia and I could be her guards while the three of you were mercenaries we employed."  
  
Gafgarion took a look back. "Children . . ." he told them all. "At least it's a workable cover story."  
  
Agrias' robes masked most of her appearance, even her face in the darkness of the cowl. Her light hands poked out of the silk sleeves of her blouse. Agrias had to change into a pair of lighter boots to complete the disguise. "We'll have to avoid our contacts in Dorter, but we should pass through without overdue attention."  
  
"So long as they never see your armor underneath those robes . . ." Gafgarion warned. "Or draw your sword for that matter. Disguise or not, there's no hiding the crest of Lesalia."  
  
The matter was closed, and they continued on.  
  
***  
  
Agrias caught Ramza looking at her over the chocobo. "Yes, what is it?" she asked him, wondering why he was interested in her.  
  
"I should tell you about Delita . . ." he told her.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The knight who abducted the princess," Ramza clarified. "His name was . . . is . . . Delita. Delita Hyral," he finished.  
  
"How did you know him?" she asked, remembering the questions she wanted to ask him.  
  
"He was my friend. The two of us were best friends ever since childhood. Even when I went into the academy, Delita joined as well, and the two of us worked and graduated together." Ramza knew that his past was something to be kept secret, but it interfered with information Agrias should know.  
  
"Magical City Gariland?" Agrias asked, taking interest in the boy's tale. In the least it would make for a more comfortable conversation, and friendliness might encourage more honesty and information from the boy. Intimidation was not something she enjoyed using on supposed allies.  
  
Ramza blinked, before looking down at his boots. "So you noticed my boots?"  
  
"The way you wear your clothes underneath the armor, the style of swordsmanship," Agrias replied, "and the boots. I've fought alongside Gariland graduates before. Not the most martial academy in Ivalice, but the best in Gallione." His subtle reaction at the mention of the province's name intrigued her, telling her that he must have lived there, or left something important behind in that province.  
  
Ramza nodded, before turning grim. "On the last mission of our first campaign, Delita became a victim. The nobility he worked for all his life betrayed him." He turned to face her, ignoring the others, who were obviously trying to listen into their conversation. "He died. . ."  
  
"Yet he's alive now. He's switched camps?" Agrias guessed, overriding her feelings of compassion with her duty.  
  
Ramza looked as if to argue with her point, but he conceded. "That's what I want to find out." He took a small breath. "If you wish to know what person he is, I can't tell you that. I don't know who he is anymore. When he was at the academy with me, he was striving to become a knight. He wasn't the best, but he was dependable."  
  
"Ramza," Agrias began, her voice hardening, "if he opposes you . . ."  
  
Coldly, Ramza replied. "If he threatens the princess, or any of you and your people, yes, I will fight him."  
  
His admission confused her. Apparently Ramza did not have any true loyalties to the mercenary outfit he belonged in, yet he respected herself and her knights. "Ramza, what if he attacks you?"  
  
"This one time I've decided to stop running," he told her. "I was part of the system that turned Delita into whatever he is now, and all I've done since then is run, but I've never gotten away. I owe him at least the chance to tell me the truth."  
  
"Were you a knight?" Agrias asked him bluntly. His light nod affirmed her question.  
  
"I trained to be one, but I was never ordained into the-" he trailed off.  
  
On one hand she felt natural sympathy for him, but on the other, she was also wary. 'Ramza' was one of the fallen. Agrias could tell he had been on something he considered to be a just path, but somehow, either he had strayed or he had been pushed off. Part of her believed it to be the latter, but her practical side was wary of Ramza being deceitful, more so than he was being now. Even if he was telling her the 'truth', it wasn't the entire story, and thus, had the substance of falsity, or deceit.  
  
The Holy Knight kept measuring the apparent runaway. All that's missing is the shield, Agrias thought. His bearing hinted at nobility, not learned through any academy. She considered herself disciplined in her stature, but noble? There was a difference there, she knew. Many families were destroyed by the Fifty Years' War, but the boy seemed too young, and even she did not join the fight until she was as old as he was now. Sensing the boy's increasing withdrawal, Agrias pressed forwards for the details she needed to know. "To what extent were you trained?"  
  
"Enough to be competent wearing armor and wielding a sword," Ramza replied. "Along with being an archer, it taught me to find weak points and exploit them." At her dubious glare, he continued. "Enough to keep me alive."  
  
Agrias grunted. In the end, its all that matters . . . "If you came from Dorter, did you also specialize as a chemist?"  
  
Ramza shrugged. "I learned it, mostly from watching others in the field," he told her, mirroring her own experiences with that specialty. "Wizardry never interested me, so I didn't delve into that realm."  
  
"A waste . . ." Agrias remarked, since Gariland specialized in churning out skilled mages.  
  
"What about you?" Ramza asked. "You didn't train simply to be a knight, or a priestess . . ."  
  
The Holy Knight shrugged. "I came from a martial family in Lesalia. My father was a priest, my mother a knight. Before I reached the age of accountability, I trained to be a priestess. As I got older, I saw that I needed to fight as well, not just shelter and heal, and I had been trained as a squire since a child. I followed my mother's path too, and became a knight in her order. Eventually I became skilled enough in both to mix the field, and I was inducted into the Order of St. Konoe."  
  
Agrias repressed a sigh as Ramza's face dimmed in contemplation. "Pardon my small-mindedness, I can never see someone trained in the arts of war delving into the practice of faith." The boy seemed confused by what she was. "It's a dichotomy to me; killing and healing; destroying and sheltering; the gauntleted fist and the curing hand." Forestalling Agrias' rebuttal, Ramza continued. "There are many different ways to serve and protect . . . but taking opposite paths?"  
  
"When the destination and the intent is the same, why not?" Agrias asked rhetorically.  
  
The Holy Knight was thoroughly confused at the boy's timidity. In her eyes, his sentiments bordered on the hypocritical. He killed the archer twice over with ruthlessness displayed by a slaughterer, yet compassion and personal suffering permeated his being. It occurred to her, hypocrisy, dichotomy . . . there wasn't a significant difference between the two. Ramza had strayed from whatever path he may have been off, yet his intentions were still the same, his conscience was still there.  
  
This made him dangerous in her eyes. Not because of his abilities, but his dysfunctions. The boy did not know who he was. Not in the sense most people were unaware of what they may be to themselves, but Ramza did not even have a real preconception of what he should be. The boy always seems detached, never looking as if he belonged to anything: a focus of skill, an order, or a place. He was still a child . . . innocent but cruel, unfettered by any obligations, only by his whims. But, there was no 'parent' there to control him, and Gafgarion was a poor substitute who barely held influence over him. Ramza followed a cause: his own.  
  
"Your path doesn't leave much room for failure. How many have gotten in your way, Agrias?" Ramza asked her softly, trying to stare into the darkness of her cowl, seeking her eyes. "The war . . . was it a crucible for you, or a forge?"  
  
Feeling curious now that the boy was probing her, Agrias indulged his profound and intrusive inquiry. "I do not liken myself to a bar of steel, Ramza. Like my name, being in that war was akin to being chained down at the sea's bottom, its crushing depths exerting pressure and strengthening me to what I am now. Eventually, as the tide of conflict ebbed, my chains broke and I floated free. Parts of me may have been 'rot', and I came out of that war with my own fair share of scars." Agrias pulled back, recoiling at the poetic manner she spoke of her experience.  
  
She was offended at the look of sympathy that came from the withdrawn young man. "I seek understanding if not acceptance, never sympathy . . ." she murmured.  
  
Ramza continued to search for her eyes as she gazed into their milky auburn glaze. "I cannot understand what you have been through, but I feel compassion, desired or unrequited," he whispered, tenderness in his voice. It wasn't condescending, or patronizing, but humble, almost apologetic.  
  
Agrias found herself growling low, feeling something stir within her; outrage. It was different from what she felt for Gafgarion, as her own conscience and emotions prevented her from giving Ramza a savage, though justified, rebuke. Feeling annoyed at herself, Agrias knew that she had some sympathy of her own for the boy. "Do . . . not . . . patronize . . . me," she let out gently, slowly, enunciating the individual syllables of each word she spoke.  
  
Its your fault for revealing yourself to him, not his. Since when have you considered the desire to understand and have empathy malicious to you? Agrias' inner voice told her. Not for the first time in recent memory, Agrias questioned not what she had turned into, but which parts of her had been warped or 'rotted' in her  
  
"I'm not . . . its what I feel," Ramza told her, raking her raw nerves even more with his weak apology. Weak in the sense of contradiction. It wasn't an admission of wrong-doing, but an acknowledgment of disagreement.  
  
Naïveté, ignorance, or even kindness . . . Ramza's attitude irritated her more than Gafgarion. At least the Dark Knight's attempt at provoking her were intentional and measured. Ramza's tainted innocence annoyed her in how easy it would be to destroy him, but the same false-innocence he emanated kept her from doing so, as if it would be harming a child.  
  
Walking over a small hill, the group saw Dorter Trade City, a hilled place surrounded by harbors on either side from where it straddled the Orbonne Peninsula. The center of the town held the better-looking houses, while the slums naturally ringed the flat outskirts of the city.  
  
"I'll go on ahead and find some information," Ramza told them.  
  
Gafgarion gave him an affirmative grunt, sending him on his way. "We've been at a fast march people, let's get our breaths back . . ."  
  
Watching the boy jog away, Agrias felt dissatisfied. Who ran away in this argument? she asked herself.  
  
Was Ramza arguing with you? her inner voice replied.  
  
***  
  
At the outskirts of the city, Gafgarion halted the group. "Here's Dorter Trade City. The first major crossroads he might have gone into."  
  
Agrias spotted the various ships in the area's harbor. "Is there a way that he could have taken a ship?" she asked Ramza as he came back.  
  
He shook his head. "Delita could have smuggled Ovelia onto any ship as cargo, but there aren't any ships out there whose charter takes them past Warjilis Trade City or Ft. Zeakden," he told them, and Agrias caught the momentary hitch in his soft voice. "The only ship here flying the banner of the Black Lion is taking a group of nobles to Igros Castle." He thought for a moment before shrugging. "He could have bypassed this place entirely, most of the harbors are on the western shore of the peninsula."  
  
"There goes the route by sea," Gafgarion told them. "To begin with, remember, that knight is operating as a rogue unit at this point. Goltana may have had a hand in this, but he'll keep his involvement as minimal as possible. Either that boy makes it to their province by himself or he won't make it at all." Looking at Ramza. "I suggest we take the main avenue through the city. It's a cleaner place." By the way Gafgarion said the word did not mean the proposed route was spotless of debris, but that of outlaws.  
  
Rad sighed, "He won't stay too close to shore, but he'll be parallel to the coastline. Either we cut him off tomorrow at Araguay Woods, or in two days at Zirekile Falls." He thought for a while. "Or he gets away in three."  
  
"He'll lose the Chocobo in the forest," Ramza stated. "I know my way through these slums, and I think we should take the 'scenic' route," Ramza told the Dark Knight.  
  
Agrias agreed. "Even if Prince Goltana can't allow himself to be active in Ovelia's kidnapping, he'll still have agents around." She added, "there are Hokuten in this city, and we don't want to be spotted by either side," she told them.  
  
"Then we pass through and take the direct route," Gafgarion finished.  
  
Ramza shrugged and followed the Dark Knight, leading the baggage Chocobo by its reins, dragging Agrias along. The Holy Knight was irritated by Gafgarion's callous disregard of the opinions of the group. Yet, this wasn't her arena. She had fought on Ivalician soil before, but not until today had it been against her citizens.  
  
Thinking that she might have seen apprehension on Ramza's face, Agrias quietly asked him, "Is there something you fear here?"  
  
Ramza moved his right hand, the one clutching the bow. "Archers . . ." he told her. "My class' first casualty was here."  
  
The Holy Knight about the boy talking about his past to her, and how it they're viewpoints, while not opposing, aggravated each other. "How did it happen?" She wondered if his retellings were relevant or inane.  
  
"Ambush," he replied, as he recessed into his mental shell, tersely scanning the tightly-packed houses along the main avenue they entered in.  
  
***  
  
At the base of a steep hill the avenue ran over, they saw a man with gray hair, wearing gold-hued armor covered in purple robes, talking to a man wearing loose green clothing with a feathered green hat. Looking down on them, the man with gray hair turned back to the man in the hat. "Ha, speak of the devil . . ." he said, loud enough for the group at the bottom of the hill to hear. "There they are," he told the man in the hat. "Get them!" he ordered loudly.  
  
The thief meanwhile, looked down and took a double take at who the gray-haired man pointed out. "That's Gafgarion!" he exclaimed. "Damn!" he cursed, throwing down his hat. "Seven hundred was too cheap!" Still, as he swore, the rest of his gang arrived. Two male wizards, another male thief, and two more contract killers that made Agrias' blood grow cold: two female archers taking up positions at the crest of the hill.  
  
Instinctively, Ramza, and Agrias took themselves and the baggage Chocobo behind the wall of the stone road at the base of the hill. Alicia and Lavian took the opposite side to the right, behind one of the houses.  
  
Calmly, Rad and Gafgarion held their ground, almost daring the lone thief up above the hill as the gray-haired man in armor and robes left. "Ambush?" Gafgarion remarked loudly, "Going all out, huh?"  
  
The man's arrogance further irritated Agrias. Before she could restrain herself, her words had already left her lips. "If you don't like it, you can leave!"  
  
As she was performing a check on her chemist's satchel, Alicia winced as she heard her commander lose her temper. Giving her partner Lavian a knowing look, the two got ready, murmuring a small prayer to their St. Konoe that they would not have to charge up that hill.  
  
Gafgarion shrugged, walking placing himself beside Ramza and Agrias. "I usually don't do freebies, but I'll make an exception!" he told the Holy Knight.  
  
"You patronizing . . ." Agrias caught herself from snapping at the Dark Knight, for the most part.  
  
The first arrow had been loosed, testing the range. It came in at a high arc, coming down from a steep angle several paces away from the clustered knights, Holy, Dark, and Lost. It was only a matter of time before the archers found their marks.  
  
The three began to concentrate, and Ramza prepared his looted bow, knocking an arrow. He focused on accumulating his energy, focusing on his arms.  
  
Gafgarion had begun to cast a spell. "Layer upon layer, make your mark now . . ." he began. "Haste!" he cried out, tapping into Time Magic.  
  
Ramza allowed himself to relax, to welcome the aid, and he felt the effects. The air around him actually began to resist him as he moved. The pain he felt as he pulled back too fast on his bow told him to slow himself down.  
  
To Ramza's left, Agrias began to do likewise, using him as the vertex of her spell. "Precious light," her voice rising from a low tone, "be our armor to protect us! Protect!" The air surrounding the three dimmed, almost misting over.  
  
Ramza took the cue and leaned out from the corner of the wall. He locked up the first target he saw: one of the thieves, who was making his way downhill along the houses. For a moment, he switched his attention to the other enemies, but saw that they were outside of his range. Ramza released his hold, and his arrow flew in a shallow arc, striking the thief in the left leg. It wasn't enough to kill the man, but it did make him lose his footing and fall down, rolling down the cobblestone road that lead up the hill. Ramza had aimed for his chest . . .  
  
Taking their cue, Rad, Alicia, and Lavian had already begun to hike up the hill, Lavian leading the way, her shield held up above her head. Behind her, Rad began to also accumulate his strength, holding his mithril sword's blade in his left hand as he focused. Alicia had her right hand in her chemist's belly satchel, ready to pluck out what she might use, while in her left was a mage masher-class of dagger.  
  
The enemy wizards were walking down the hill, closing the gap. Those below were lucky; it would still be some time. But not for the enemy's two archers. The two women had also walked down, taking up positions once more as they concentrated on the group led by Lavian.  
  
A single arrow struck the shield squarely on, while the other archer sent her own arrow up in a high arc, scraping along Alicia's left shoulder, causing her dagger arm to fall to her side, the dagger still clutched weakly in her hand.  
  
Almost immediately, Alicia took a potion pouch from her satchel and drank the contents, lessening the agony from her wound as she then hurried to apply salve to the gash.  
  
Gafgarion and Agrias had too, rushed out, heading up to meet the other thief.  
  
Again, Gafgarion used the Night Sword technique while Agrias followed through with her own Crush Punch form, crumpling the last thief, causing him to pass out from the damage dealt, all by energy directed from a blade.  
  
The two advancing groups had come into range of the wizards. Anticipating them, the two male wizards had targeted a band of land the two groups were bound to cross.  
  
"Out of the ground," the left wizard cried, "raze all greenery with flame!"  
  
Agrias was struck along with Gafgarion, but she was the one who cried out in agony while Gafgarion grunted in pain. A pillar of flame had swirled across the two, flaring quickly out, but burning the exposed flesh as well as singing the two knights, clad in their metal armor.  
  
The woman's shriek from being burned jolted Ramza as he released his next shot, striking the wizard who had just fired. When the arrow embedded itself in his stomach, the man staggered back. He was hurt, but not slain, as he simply took a few steps back uphill. He fell on his ass before focusing on casting a follow-up spell.  
  
Gafgarion had his revenge, as he used the night sword to leech the chemist's life energy into himself, finishing off the man Ramza had wounded.  
  
Agrias took this time to cast another spell on herself as Gafgarion and she ignored the other wizard on the opposite side of the street, focusing on assassinating the enemy archers. It was the quickest -and weakest- of her curative spells. "Life's refreshing breeze, blow in energy," she cried. "Cure!"  
  
Wind visibly wound around them gently and began to cure their injuries, gently sweeping out the burns. They were far from healed, but they were on the way. Agrias allowed herself to relax, some of her energy returned and the pain alleviated.  
  
They were halfway up the hill.  
  
Rad had fallen, succumbing to the lightning elemental spell cast upon his group. He lay writhing on the ground, with Lavian screening him as she advanced. Oddly enough, Alicia, their knight-turned-chemist, was the first one who made it to the wizard. Avoiding the swipe the black mage made with his thunder rod, Alicia extended her left arm as she cut his mace-arm with her mage masher, silencing him, preventing any other spells he may have cast.  
  
At the base of the hill, Ramza had already begun his own charge, focusing on nothing else but sprinting up hill in a beeline. Either he would be ignored until he got within range of the uphill archers, or he would draw their attention. It was a grim and stupid choice, but Agrias and Gafgarion were almost in position, plus they had a man down on the ground.  
  
The Holy and Dark knights were almost in range, and by this time, the hasted frenzy cast unto them faded, worn away by their uphill rush. The two female archers had stopped their fire, climbing up on several barrels to the cerulean tiles of the houses on the hill. One had taken the left, the other the right side. Gafgarion and Agrias went for the left archer, not wanting to split their portion of the force. Lavian was still only halfway up the street, securing the silenced wizard, who had dropped his mace and surrendered. She was drinking down the potion pouch Alicia had lobbed at her. Meanwhile, Alicia had doubled back to treat Rad and drag him into the safety of one of the houses' entryway. He had stopped his convulsions, and lay there next to where Alicia knelt, accumulating his strength.  
  
Ramza charged past them, an arrow's fletching dangling from his left hand as he held the bow in his right. He fell sideways into the pavement as the rightmost archer tagged him, striking him in the right side of his chest, piercing his bronze breastplate, digging into his flesh, scratching his lung, but not penetrating. The shock made him want to flinch as he fell. He had panicked, letting himself fall when the arrow struck him as he saw it arc down, fortunately, he had not fallen on his front and driven the arrow deeper into him.  
  
He recovered to his knees, locking up the enemy archer, who was knocking her next arrow. Awkward as it was, he fired, striking her where her right shoulder met her neck, causing her to drop her bow and stagger away. Ramza let himself lie down on the pavement and gently wiggled out the arrow that struck him. He saw the two distinctive flashes at the top of the hill on the rooftops.  
  
Gafgarion and Agrias had neutralized their target, and unlike his, this archer had not gotten away. The Dark Knight secured the top of the hill, ignoring the frightened, though curious, townspeople who had now gone to their balconies.  
  
Worried, Agrias saw Ramza on the ground as he sat up, examining himself after he made his way to Alicia and Rad. Her own singed skin still felt raw, but she waited until she was around both Rad and Ramza before she cast another, more powerful, curing spell now that she had time. "Blessing breeze," she prayed, "blow in energy!" Again the wind swept around them gently.  
  
As Gafgarion made his way downhill, Agrias spoke to the group. "There's no time to waste . . ." she stated the obvious. "We must hurry and save the Princess!" she declared, excitement from the battle and the righteousness she felt catching up with her.  
  
Gafgarion suppressed a rebuke towards her. Her 'knightly' spirit was bothersome to him. He chose to indulge her ranting. "Where are we going?" he asked her rationally. "Do you know where they went?"  
  
Agrias nodded, dropping the cowl she wore. "There's only one place they could have escaped to!" she remarked. "Impregnable fortress . . ." she said, slowly this time, her voice trailing, "Bethla Garrison."  
  
Ramza spoke up, having collected himself and his items. "Bethla Garrison . . ." he echoed.  
  
***  
  
Gafgarion looked back out at the uphill road and shook his head. "Ramza, is there any way we can get out of this?"  
  
"The authorities haven't arrived yet, but someone has to have reported this," Ramza replied, taking in the corpses they left on the street. "There's no way we can get out of this city today after what happened."  
  
Agrias protested. "If they sent someone to delay us, they must be desperate. We can make camp after we clear the city." Ramza shook his head.  
  
Gafgarion ignored her, already walking back downhill. "There should be an some kind of tavern in the slums that won't ask the wrong questions of their customers."  
  
"What about the prisoner?" Lavian asked, gesturing to the wizard hidden within his tattered blue robes and scarecrow's hat. The indifferent shrug Gafgarion gave made her open her eyes in alarm. Likewise, Agrias was wary.  
  
"Ramza, what will you do to him?" she asked, surprised that she would ask him for something he was not in charge of.  
  
"We knock him out and leave him here," Ramza told her as Rad came over and kneed the wizard in the head. Silently, the man crumpled, even as Alicia drew her dagger as she forced the mercenary squire away.  
  
At Agrias' snarl of outrage, Ramza told her firmly, "We can't leave him behind." He kept himself from pointing out that this was not a war. "There is no one else supporting us. No one to hold him captive. He's only a burden to us, and a risk if we take him along."  
  
Her sense of fair play stoked, Agrias reluctantly backed down. She had been out of line, but she would not apologize for what she considered was 'fair' in war. Even against Romanda during the war, certain rules had been observed on both sides.  
  
Sitting up, Ramza left. Taking the hint from Agrias' two subordinates, Rad shrugged, jogging downhill towards where Gafgarion was waiting with the baggage chocobo.  
  
"Is this why you weren't a knight?" Agrias acidly asked of Ramza as the boy offered her his hand.  
  
Giving the boy a helpless expression mixed in with disappointment and sympathy, Alicia and Lavian passed by him as they followed the other mercenaries.  
  
As Ramza began to say something, Agrias moved past him, leaving him behind.  
  
Silently, Ramza followed, taking the rear position of their group as they entered the slums.  
  
***  
  
Gafgarion had found a tavern where the group would stay the night. Immediately, Agrias and her knights went upstairs while payment was being arranged with the bartender / innkeeper.  
  
"One room for the three women," the bartender repeated, "but what about you three?"  
  
"How many drinks?" Rad piped up.  
  
The bartender shrugged it off. "I'll let you three stay here for . . . six steins each, plus food."  
  
Gafgarion chuckled. "Bartering, bartenders . . ." he said, creating a pun, " . . . where would the world be without them?" He pointed at Ramza to the bartender. "He doesn't drink . . ."  
  
"Split his share?" Rad remarked.  
  
The bartender regarded the mercenary squire. "People like you are the reason why people like me will never be poor." He slid out the first two of the eighteen drinks to be consumed. Shaking his head at Ramza, he passed the boy a stein filled with something else besides ale. "There's some grape juice . . . careful though, it may have fermented."  
  
"Even better!" Rad interrupted for the third time.  
  
Ramza had gone over to a table where a plain girl had taken him. Spotting the pale trace of a scar running down her exposed forearm from the brown and gray blouse she wore, he looked into her eyes. "I was a squire for a while . . ." she told him. "I didn't last long in the war."  
  
Ramza nodded, and told her gently. "At least you've found life outside of fighting . . ." He gave her a soft smile. "I envy you that . . ."  
  
She smiled back at that remark. "If only you were a few years older . . . right now I feel like a cradle-robber." She laughed at Ramza's shocked expression. "I don't know if that's real or not . . . but it's . . . well, cute." She left Ramza staring after her, confused.  
  
"She's right," Lavian told her, now out of her armor, sitting down in front of him wearing a plain linen robe. She leaned forwards. "Is that really how you are?"  
  
Ramza shrugged, unable to say anything.  
  
"I think I understand why Agrias is angry at you. You seem so innocent, but you're probably as ruthless as your mercenary buddies over there," she pointed, to where Alicia had taken several steins away from the two. The chemist-knight ignored their protestations as she carried the steins, two per hand. She held them up to her chest, and as she reached Ramza's table, took a moment to sip out all of the froth from one of her steins before giving the rest to Lavian.  
  
Ramza was surprised to hear the two knights laughing. They were serious, but nowhere near as Agrias. He understood though, being a subordinate gave you more freedom in relaxation even while on duty. "Its who I am . . ."  
  
"There," Alicia pointed out, "she hates that. Most of us find it annoying. Look, either apologize or tell us off . . . just make a stand, Ramza." She took a sip of her drink as the food was brought over, little more than boiled and salted meat with this morning's bread. "We, Lavian and me, are able to relax when its time, but you . . . you're always out there . . . tense and still dense at the same time. Plus, we've seen you snap."  
  
Lavian took over as Alicia began to tear into the side of meat with the cleaver that came with the rack. The chopping didn't jolt either her or Ramza. "Your outbursts are dangerous. They look unstable. Whatever your holding back, that's what keeps us from trusting you all the way." She pointed towards the two other mercenaries and the bartender were ogling herself and Alicia, even with her partner trailing bits of meat from her mouth. Lavian let out a small belch, which if anything, enticed the males even more in their gawking. "We know they are bastards who work for coin, but you don't. But, even though you care and have a conscience . . . we can't figure out just why you are like you are . . ."  
  
"I'm a hypocrite?" Ramza brought up.  
  
Alicia shook her head as she chewed. "Nrmph!"  
  
"She says 'no'," Lavian clarified. "We appreciate your support, but you scare us Ramza. We've seen people like you in the war . . ."  
  
Finally swallowing her food, Alicia jumped in after washing it down with some ale. "They're all dead . . . all of them were stupid enough to keep going along their paths like you did."  
  
Again, Ramza did not know what to say.  
  
"He's just as bad as her . . ." Lavian remarked to her partner, who nodded back.  
  
"Speak of the devil . . ." Alicia spoke, tilting her nose up towards the stairs.  
  
Unlike Alicia or Lavian, Agrias came downstairs armed, wearing only a linen robe like them, but carrying her mithril sword in its scabbard. It was pointless since the only people that wasn't in their group was the bartender and the waitress.  
  
Warily, and cajoled by the gestures of the two other women, Agrias came to sit at the table, 'coincidentally' across from Ramza. "Good evening . . ." she told him coldly.  
  
Ramza had been eating his own portion of the 'meal', taking out a dagger the knights did not know he had and using the serrated edge to cut himself off his portions. He nodded back politely, finishing his chewing. "Good evening, Agrias," he addressed her. "Sorry about the lack of food."  
  
Alicia kept from groaning as Lavian rolled her eyes.  
  
Wordlessly, Agrias paused for a moment to give a prayer before she herself dug into the meal. Ramza took the hint and ate quietly, and Agrias noted his mannerisms. She tried to dismiss the anger she felt around the boy, but found that she couldn't let go. It wasn't his entire fault, and that frustrated her all the more. The boy ate like a noble, while even Agrias was gruff with her food, she was trained compared to her subordinates. I'm supposed to be angry at him . . .  
  
She looked over them and asked. "I don't know why you two are always so happy."  
  
Alicia shrugged, "There's wisdom in being happy."  
  
Ramza smiled softly at that. "It was the same way with me . . ." he told them, referring to Agrias. "Its one way of dealing with it. May not solve anything . . . but it does get your mind away from battle. People like us take things too seriously . . ."  
  
He stopped when he saw Agrias glaring at him, cold fury churning in her eyes. He saw her hand hesitate at her stein, wondering if she would take a swig or throw it in his face.  
  
Predictably, Alicia and Lavian chose to leave then, leaving Agrias alone with Ramza. "Lady Agrias," Lavian whispered, "please, whatever he's done to offend you . . . settle it now,"  
  
Alicia settled to give the now-nervous Ramza a reassuring pat on the back. "Don't disappoint us," she whispered in his ear, almost sighing as Ramza struggled to understand what she might be trying to tell him.  
  
Ramza's tan eyes met Agrias' matching pair. The Holy Knight wanted to leave, but felt that she had been irrational.  
  
From the bar, Gafgarion stared at them from the corner of his eye. "Hopeless . . ."  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
On the bright side, I think I'm almost done with the FIRST DAY of the story . . . in comparison to the months it took me months to write out just several hours of one day at the Masaki Residence in 'Giri to Kiyone.'  
  
Chugging along slowly . . . hopefully when school begins I'll be more focused.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Responses Corner***  
  
Well, erm, yeah. Here's another miscellaneous section.  
  
Yes, I DO plan to continue this story. I'll post my retirement should I choose to stop working on this piece and I will announce the shifting of assets should I leave this one on the back burner.  
  
As to Ramza's choice in jobs, well, truthfully, any job class outside of Squire and Knight isn't really following the storyline. As it is I violated that by making Ramza take the Archer - Thief - Lancer (Dragoon for the purists. . .) jobline.  
  
But. . . I didn't want to make him follow the full-on Knight line since Ramza shouldn't know the Eastern Arts (Monk) and as I pointed out before: he's not a tree-hugger (Geomancer).  
  
Ramza's abandonment of that jobline mirrors his path in life. As he is generall unspecialized (Squire), he also delves into the less honorable, but still 'martial' jobline, that of the Archer.  
  
It marks his departure from training to be a Hokuten, to being independent (which admittedly, he is not, even at this point in the series). Too bad he's never shown using a spear in the series since he was never meant to be a Lancer.  
  
Two Swords? None of the characters (Ramza, Agrias, Rafa, Mustadio, etc.) will be taking the Samurai or Ninja jobs.  
  
It would make them too Uber.  
  
I'd like to make Agrias a Dancer ^_^, but no. . . that's on the Archer and Knight Jobline, not Priestess. Yes - In my first run through the game, I DID develop her to dance around the battlefield. . . stupid since there's only one animation, but still!  
  
Agrias may know how to use a bow, but to be a Thief?  
  
Post more questions as you find them, and please, questions and comments ARE appreciated.  
  
***Readers' Responses Corner*** 


	3. 02 Pointless Yet Significant

***Pre-Story Notes***  
  
Yes, this section still covers Dorter Trade City. Still, its original stuff once more.  
  
I added some more to this, so sorry if you've already read the previous version, there is a new segment however.  
  
Oopsies, this will be a repost seeing as FanFiction.Net interpreted my thought bubbles which used chevrons as HTML and deleted them. Now expect parentheses instead to border thoughts. Originally it was because FanFiction.Net did not preserve my italic and bold text.  
  
***Pre-Story Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-03 "Pointless, Yet Significant" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 03)  
  
***January 1st, Year 2 The Slums of Dorter Trade City***  
  
The discomfort at the table had increased. Not in the mood for idle chatter, Agrias kept quiet, eating her meal. Ramza had finished ahead of her, and patiently waited. The way he looked around the room unsettled Agrias. He did not gawk at her, to ogle her body. But he didn't look past her either, to pretend to ignore that she was there, that there was no conflict. The fact that he maintained direct eye contact with her further made her wary as she finished her strips of meat and downed it down with a meager amount of 'juice' that Ramza was having, which was partially fermented, as it had some bite, and Agrias knew a spirit when she tasted it. The oily texture, and the salty taste of the bread was mixed by the viscous run of the juice with its bittersweet tang.  
  
Normally, direct eye contact was shared by either people in an intimate fashion, or in a state of challenge. Agrias did not think either one was appropriate. Purposely raising her right eyebrow, Agrias asked in a voice that was far too casual, "I understand that you are hiding things from us. Not all of it may be relevant to the one who kidnapped Princess Ovelia, but the lack of faith is critical."  
  
She wasn't surprised to see Ramza nod and accept her statement. Yes, it was truth as she saw it, but she did wish for the boy to at least defend himself. He deserved enough respect in her eyes to at least refuse that accusation, and to bring up his own points. The boy either seemed to regard her declaration as insignificant, or he did not want to confront the situation.  
  
"I became a mercenary," he told her, "to run away from my past. I didn't want to abandon it and begin anew though." Gently, he stood up, seeing that Agrias had finished dining. He glanced over at the bar and gave the barmaid / ex-squire a friendly nod. She waved the used steins in her hands, gesturing that she would take care of it.  
  
The Holy Knight almost groaned as he held his hand out to her. She accepted, allowing Ramza's ungloved palm envelope her equally unclothed fingers. (His skin is smoother than mine . . ). Agrias thought, (the bastard!) She felt his palm had less calluses than hers, and none of the blistered scars hers had. To make it worse, her skin still felt raw from the fire spell she had been struck with. "You expect to return," she told him. "That, or you cannot even let go of who you were to change the way you act."  
  
"Both. Deep down, I do hope to return, but I do not want to be accepted into what I have run away from," Ramza confessed, as he lead her upstairs, taking the straps on the scabbards of their swords into his left hand.  
  
Agrias shook her head, allowing herself to be lead back upstairs. She didn't need to look back to know that all the other eyes in the bar below were following her ascent. (Like a little boy . . .) Agrias pondered, feeling patronized, but tightening her grip on his hand. Ramza looked ahead, upstairs as they continued, while Agrias walked her right hand along the banister.  
  
"You've gone so far," she told him. Agrias could see that much. "But, why have you not gone further?" she asked him. "The decision to return to what you once were is not even in your hands . . ." She raised her voice slightly from the low tone she had been using. "Did you, do you, are you different from what you once were? Truly changed . . ."  
  
"I know what I once was is wrong. My ignorance was burned out of me," he told her, his pale tan eyes clear, as if allowing her in, begging her inside. "I have slain and regretted it . . ." he let out. "Not because I killed, but because later on I realized . . . had I the knowledge . . . if I knew how it truly was, I would have fought alongside them, or at least found a way to spare their lives."  
  
Agrias was tempted to let the boy go on as they reached the second floor and went up another flight of stairs. She knew the destination was not her room, but he was still male, and that fact alone was enough for her to harbor doubt against him in that form. But, to let him go on would lead to him spilling out his heart to her, what little of it he would share, and she did not want to be cried on. So . . . she told him what she had guessed. (He's too young to have fought in the war, and its obvious he's spent time in Gallione . . .) "The Knights of Death."  
  
Instinctively, he replied. "The Death Corps," he corrected her. Agrias was disappointed that the boy willingly gave up that information.  
  
(Are you toying with me too? Showing only certain portions of yourself, selecting which bits of truth to give me . . . to gain my sympathy, my support, my care? All of what you show me is the truth Ramza, but the presentation is the deception.) Agrias pondered in her mind.  
  
"That was not the name I knew them by," Agrias told him. She could also not stand their walking any longer. "Where are you taking me by the way," she continued, interrupting her own line of discussion.  
  
"The roof," Ramza replied. "Its private enough," he continued.  
  
Agrias counted for a few moments, remembering what she did in childhood to keep from lashing out physically against a momentary annoyance. You fought the Knights of Death?" she asked him, her interest rising in the boy.  
  
Ramza nodded. "What was left of them, at least. Without any nobles supporting them, they no longer were knights." Ramza's statement, bordering on the offensive, was honest, if not blunt, blunt in the sense of a sledgehammer being dropped onto a chocobo's egg, which was an apt analogy for Agrias' temper.  
  
"Those people were 'just' enough in my eyes . . ." Agrias let out even as Ramza opened the door leading to the roof. The air was not as stale as the bar's, with a hint of a slight tang that accompanied the wetlands.  
  
"I know that, we knew of what they did," Ramza told her, and Agrias wondered if she was being appeased. "When we faced them, the other cadets and I took on their remnants." He led her over to the lipless edge of the tavern. The material they were on was a flat expanse of plastered wood, not thatch or earthen shingles. Agrias sat down first, taking his cue.  
  
The fact that Ramza wouldn't lie about such a trivial detail bothered Agrias. (Melodrama beyond description . . . why couldn't he simply have an over-inflated ego?) "At the time," he told her, "their leadership had dissolved, and the individual factions were fighting each other for the best course of action."  
  
"I knew some of them," Agrias pointed out, confirming what she had already given away. She regretted saying that as she saw Ramza nod, taking in her words, and she felt a momentary echo of compassion from her at the pain he emanated.  
  
"We had been sent to retrieve a spy who had infiltrated their ranks, but he was already dead."  
  
"Retrieval usually doesn't include sending out armed men, even if you were fresh cadets."  
  
Ramza shrugged. "It was almost an excursion for us. Others could've done it, but the Hokuten Knights were short of ready soldiers."  
  
"You weren't expecting peace, but bloodshed," Agrias concluded.  
  
"The Hokuten wanted the Death Corps annihilated to the last man and woman who carried their badge," Ramza agreed. "The end began for them when their revolt was marked as a wave of banditry and murderers, stripping them of their martial legitimacy."  
  
"Oh, 'Mitigating Circumstances'," Agrias bitterly quipped. "A year ago, there was trouble in Gallione," she recalled. "It never escalated to the point where intervention was required from the other provinces," (so I wasn't involved,) Agrias didn't add. "But the idea of a peasant revolt, especially one by a coherent military unit of peasants, was frightening."  
  
"When they revolted," Ramza told her, "it was in vain if it was for their lives."  
  
"For their lives it was in vain?"  
  
"They opened the door," Ramza told her. "They had no noble support: no base, no logistics, no comrades but themselves. A quick death or imprisonment was inevitable for them, but they proved that revolt could be possible, with those elements."  
  
Agrias shook her head. "The same could be said of the Fifty Years War. Ivalice entered in with initial success but was unable to account for Romanda across the channel and the ability to maintain the invasion, and it fell in on us." She leaned back where she sat, sliding her legs out from under her to let them dangle over the edge. It was dusk, and twilight had arrived, the sky a deep blue, and a pale crescent of the moon an argent slice, the rest of the sphere dimmed in the deep blue of the night sky. "I fought to keep the same peoples our country invaded fifty years before from claiming our own lands. Ivalice may have learned from its mistakes, but I think not. Those that could have died from other mistakes made before their lessons could be taught."  
  
"Even now, we hover on the brink . . ." Ramza murmured, referring to Ivalice's current state of turmoil, from within not without.  
  
"Don't talk like that!" Agrias rebuked him, growing nervous as she remembered where they were on the third floor -aka the roof- of the tavern. Her exclamation served as a creator of brevity. Ramza chuckled after that statement.  
  
Consciously, Agrias waved her dangling legs about, realizing how cool the draft was as she pressed her linen robe down, sealing the openings as best she could.  
  
She realized that their talking was not focusing on what really bothered her, so she changed tracks. "I want to ask why you act the way you do, but I only know I'm going to get an answer I wouldn't want at all."  
  
". . ." Ramza kept quiet. "I would like to ask you this as a man . . ."  
  
Agrias was taken aback, and her guard went up. Unconsciously, her left hand, the one away from Ramza crept towards their swords while her right hand tensed up in preparation to strike. Fear, distrust of the three- legged race began to bubble up in anticipation of what may be unless she prevented it.  
  
"Why do you ask us questions we can't possibly answer?" Ramza inquired, simply, with a tremor of fear in his voice.  
  
Agrias blinked, before she interpreted what he was saying. She bit back her urge to laugh, feeling the tension that had built up within her be released. She felt some shame along with her amusement; she had overreacted and nearly gone to the point where she would have drawn on the boy. As it was, her pride decided to salvage the situation by taking her sheathed sword onto her lap.  
  
"Ramza?" She began in a voice that was all too sweet and soft. The alarm in his eyes was gratifying to her. She gave him a slight smile, one that did not reach her eyes, which now held his in turn. The calmness in her stoic features emphasizes this as she took a deep breath. For effect, she caressed the hilt of her own mithril sword. "Do you think I'm fat?"  
  
***  
  
Sitting together on the roof, the two warriors reclined, continuing to watch the stars. They kept each other company in the silence between them, listening to the sounds on the street below, as well as the other denizens of the surrounding rooftops. Agrias spent most of her life either in the capital of Lesalia, in a monastery, and a year on the battlefields that Zeltennia had been turned into.  
  
The noises of the people, talking, arguing, and laughing, was as chaotic as the orders and cries were at the front. The sound of the constant loading and unloading was also reminiscent of the chaos she had been through. Most of the people wore drab gray and browns that almost made them blend in against the buildings and the packed-dirt streets.  
  
The Holy Knight became very conscious of her status. She wasn't a noble, but she still came from a family with a history of service beginning with her parents. Not only because of her innate skill and ability was she able to become who she was today. She wondered, had she been born as one of the children of the people below, would she still be the same? Not simply Agrias the Holy Knight of the Order of St. Konoe, but Agrias the person, with all the attributes -and even some flaws- she held dear.  
  
Deep down, she knew she wasn't as pious as she should be. Almost none were, and those who were true to who they are and what they believe in never resemble the righteous.  
  
"Losing your religion?" Ramza murmured, snapping Agrias out of her reverie, startling the Holy Knight.  
  
(Is he really like this?) Agrias asked herself once more. "Excuse me?" Ramza had probed a very volatile topic, and Agrias found herself tempted to snap back.  
  
"Believing in a God that would allow all this."  
  
Agrias was tempted to tell him that it may be a test of his faith, but she too realized, how wrong that sounded. It trivialized the troubles of the other person, dismissing the issues they faced and giving them an ideal, while not false, was all too ethereal. Faith was something best left to oneself, not dictated by another.  
  
"There have been times for me as well," she said back, probing the subject in her mind, and finding herself recoiling. Whether it was from true refusal or the fear of finding out the truth, Agrias didn't know. It was both, but to what degree was each severe? Agrias turned to another path of thought. "Ramza, even if those who were your masters claim the righteousness of God as justification for what they do, you know what is just according to St. Ajora in your mind."  
  
Softly, the boy shook his head, blinking in confusion. "That wasn't what I meant Agrias. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to make a comparison."  
  
Shaking her head, Agrias allowed herself to lie back on the tavern's roof, staring up into Ramza's lowered gaze. She should have felt nervous that someone was above her while she lay prone, exposed, yet she only felt concern mixed with annoyance and her wisdom screaming at her to both be wary of, and to welcome the boy. "Don't apologize, just tell me what it was you were trying to get across. Be blunt, be harsh, just tell me the truth." she said tiredly, finding her current position, setting, and company a very soothing combination. Idly, she sidled her sheathed sword over her stomach, caressing the hilt's guard.  
  
"Is your religion to you what my nobility was to me?" Ramza asked her. Tilting her head slightly, Agrias bade him to continue. "My stature was something I always took for granted, something I ignored. Because it was a part of me, a constant."  
  
"Something that was always there," Agrias finished for him. She graced him with a confused look of her own. "I can't answer that question Ramza. For one, it came from nowhere."  
  
"Go on." Ramza urged.  
  
Agrias raised her voice almost playfully. "Second, we don't know each other well enough so none of us know enough about ourselves. Third. I don't know at all, and I'm not sure that I want to discover how."  
  
"I didn't mean to make light of your faith."  
  
"You didn't, unless you made light of which you are, or were." Agrias told him. "Do you just want to hear me say nice things about you to make you feel better?" she put bluntly.  
  
"I wouldn't mind," Ramza replied just as jovially.  
  
Agrias made a face, and Ramza blinked in surprise, before laughing. Taking the hint that it was inane to go on, he gently pulled himself back from the rooftop's edge and came to rest on his knees.  
  
Once more, Agrias accepted his hand as she took both of their swords in her right hand. After giving Ramza back one of the sheathed blades, Agrias walked on ahead of him. "Ramza," she called back to him. "Ask me again soon."  
  
"After I am able to tell you just who I am." Ramza replied.  
  
"Its all I ask."  
  
The two walked back inside the building and down to the second story where Agrias' room was. Comically, Ramza strode ahead and opened the door to the room Agrias was sharing with the other women. It would've been a sweet scene had not Alicia and Lavian been on the other side of the door, giving the two curious looks. Lavian pretended to go back into her reading of the scriptures while Alicia resumed her maintenance on the knights' equipment.  
  
Feeling embarrassed, Agrias sidestepped into her room and shut the door almost immediately. As Ramza stood there dumbfounded when the door slammed in his face, the portal opened up again in the same capricious manner. "Thank you for cheering me up tonight. though I wonder why I should feel so carefree at a time like this."  
  
"You have a strange idea of 'cheer'. Noble, peasant, or somewhere in between," Ramza replied happily, "we're all human."  
  
"Tempter," Agrias jokingly accused as she shut the door in on him.  
  
Wisely, Alicia and Lavian opted to stay quiet, pretending to ignore the exchange for the sake of their commander's dignity, or stuck-up, stubborn pride as they would have called it.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
There's the official end to tonight's scene. I'm tempted to go off and make another scene that compliments this. It'll deal with two different settings: La Suite Des Femmes Fatales or the Drunk Tank on the first floor dealing with the Mercs. Somehow, it seems too complicated, and I simply want to move the story along though until I reach the end of Chapter Two. Augmentations like those will just slow me down, though they are relevant. but a bit too much in terms of content and lacking in subtlety.  
  
Don't expect those bonus sections, though they are nice ideas to entertain.  
  
Both segments of the scene ended differently than I thought they would (the original planned endings were darker). Somehow, though unlikely, I opted for the brighter outcomes. No need for over- dramatization yet. Plus, its more realistic to end it on a happy note. The plot moodswings are something that will come along soon enough.  
  
What really sucks is Ramza' and Agrias' speech patterns are identical.  
  
Seriously, their arguments might as well be a person debating with themselves. The more you read, the more this feature (perk, flaw, its what you make of it) will become apparent.  
  
I still cannot write a female perspective properly, but then again, is that just me trying to milk sympathy?  
  
Ah, rhetorical questions!  
  
Still, if you have any feedback, be it compliment, criticism, or question, just drop me a line.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
Hn, thank you for your feedback, I appreciate it. The support is welcomed, and pardon me for being too lazy to e-mail you in response.  
  
Erm, yeah, the focus on Agrias being angry is something that you shouldn't worry about.  
  
She IS pissed.  
  
Agrias FAILED in her duty to protect the princess. If anything, I failed to display the rage and desperation she must be feeling. She's disregarding Gafgarion as support outside of brute force, so she's taken it upon herself pretty much to right her wrongs.  
  
Plus, people like Ramza WILL piss you off. Its too good to be true, yet, that's how he is. Even if he's not acting out, its still aggravating to meet someone who is such a contradiction. His attitudes are far too contradicting, as has been pointed out repeatedly by Agrias in the story.  
  
The woman is stressed, but her anger isn't in malice. Keep that in mind. She's not lashing out in malice, but she IS letting Ramza know that he is yanking her chain.  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	4. 03 Sanguine Sun Rising

***Pre-Story Notes***  
  
This chapter has been reposted, this time with the triquestas ( '. . .'s ) preserved.  
  
***Pre-Story Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-04 "Sanguine Sun Rising" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 04)  
  
***January 2nd, Year 2 The Slums of Dorter Trade City***  
  
The Rabid Couar: Tavern & Inn.  
  
The sun had not yet risen, but the night sky had begun to transform from its twilight hue to a lighter tone. Automatically, Agrias' eyes opened, light tan irises murky in the dark. Mechanically, she dropped her left arm from the bed and found her sword's hilt. Instinctively, she scanned the room, even as her unresponsive body was still catching up with her consciousness.  
  
Her eyes adjusted comfortably to the darkness as she identified all the silhouettes in the room with her. On the floor of her bed, to the left, where the closed windows were, lay Alicia, curled up like a kitten under her sheets, the squad's equipment which she was working on lay strewn around her in a ring, marking her improvised bed. On the right side of the floor, just clear of the doorway, was Lavian, still dressed in the light attire they wore underneath their armor, laying flat on her back without a blanket, contentedly clutching her wrapped shield as a pillow.  
  
It was a silly precaution, but Agrias still felt the search necessary. Content that there were no intruders, and stifling the temptation to check under her bed, Agrias pulled her knees to herself as she sat up on the bed, the sheets slipping away from her, and the Holy Knight found herself chilled. Her sword lay on the bed with her, forgotten as she reviewed what they would do that day.  
  
The knights and the mercenaries slept early in the night so that they would be prepared to leave the city at first light. Agrias wondered why the city's guard would let them go, seeing as it was the next best time for the 'culprits' of yesterday's brawl to make their leave. (Gafgarion should have a plan). . . Agrias considered.  
  
She looked at her two soldiers, and wondered if she should wake them now. (They need their rest for today. . .) she worried, and she slipped off the bed, striding silently towards the window. Her body wasn't fully awake, and Agrias ended up almost stumbling and knelt down as she peeked through the shutters. (I woke up a little too early...) she thought  
  
It would be two hours yet before they left, and Agrias knew that if she want back to sleep again, she would be late in her second awakening. (The extra hour of rest would be beneficial to them. . .) Agrias decided, quietly gathering her robes, her boots, her leggings, and her breastplate in several trips from the room, depositing them in the middle of the hallway. Finally, she took her sword with her and crept to the stairway, peering down around the corner at the bar below.  
  
What she saw was Gafgarion dozing at one of the tables, sleeping while sitting up straight at a chair, while Rad was still nursing one of the drinks, and Agrias ducked back as he cast a look on her direction.  
  
(Can I change here?) Agrias asked herself. She wanted her knights to have their rest so she did not want to disturb their sleep. But, she also wanted to be ready before them, so she could be helping the others prepare when the time to waken came. Banishing her fears asides, Agrias began to hike up a pair of snug linen pants. Finishing that, she now sat on the wooden floors and began to slip on and tie her boots.  
  
Hearing steps coming up the stairway, Agrias stopped, and rose to her knees.  
  
Three soft knocks rapped upon the banister. "Are you decent?" Ramza asked, staying two steps away from the top.  
  
(It could've been someone else. . .) Agrias conceded, before softly responding. "Yes, I am." She paused for a minute, wondering about the annoying clinginess the boy seemed to project. "While you're there, would you please watch out for below?"  
  
"Oh. . . of course," Ramza clumsily answered. He sat down on the top of the stairs, and Agrias saw his back, now encased in the dark purple- coated bronze armor that he now wore. "I-I'll be right here. . ." he told her, while keeping his head out of view. He began to hum, letting her know where he was.  
  
The Holy Knight just shook her head. She cursed silently as she regarded the two halves of her breastplate on the floor - the breastplate itself, and the backplate, respectively. Hesitating, she stared from her strewn armor to the sitting Ramza.  
  
"Ramza," she called, "could you help me with my. . ."  
  
Predictably, the boy's head came around the corner a little too swiftly, and to his credit, he did not duck back in embarrassment. The soft smile he gave her as he nodded though was something Agrias did not know how to accept or interpret.  
  
Without being prompted, Ramza presented the breastplate to Agrias, which she took and place against her chest while Ramza took the backplate and went around her. Patiently, Agrias waited as Ramza made sure the clothes she had under the armor did not ball up. "Does this feel fine?" he asked her as he began to secure the two pieces together, methodically slipping the leather straps from the backplate through the breastplate's clasps.  
  
"Keep going. . ." Agrias told him as he tied on the straps, keeping the straps loose as he continued to adjust them to fit her. "I'll see. . ." she said as Ramza tentatively stepped back.  
  
Ignoring Ramza, she began to move her arms and leaned forwards and back , testing her range of motion. "It's a little tight at the shoulders," she remarked, but there was approval in her voice. She wanted to thank the boy, but it felt odd, as if it were unnecessary. She hoped that Ramza would understand.  
  
Nodding, and with an expression of amused commitment on his face, Ramza went back to work.  
  
***  
  
Agrias would've asked how Ramza put on his own armor by himself when she saw the extended leather straps that were strung along his sides. "How soon can we leave this place?"  
  
Ramza shrugged and both of them began to walk down the stairs. "Entry into and exit of the city should be allowed by now. There aren't any walls, but there is a curfew."  
  
Surprised, Agrias was led to a table where breakfast had been prepared for her. It was the same as the last night's dinner faire, but it was still a meal. Feeling awkward, Agrias began to dine, wanting to make sure she wasn't all the way full, but filled enough so that she wouldn't have to worry about another meal until later in the afternoon, or she would snack on the trip until dinnertime. Thankfully, Ramza politely ate with her, patiently taking a small loaf of bread and methodically tearing piece by piece off.  
  
Feeling a bit of tension build up, Agrias let it out. "Why are you babying me?"  
  
Ramza's shrug made her want to drop the subject before she was irritated. "That isn't a good enough of an answer."  
  
"Because its what feels right. . ." Ramza finally responded.  
  
Agrias thought for a moment before giving up. "All right, I can't really understand, but. . ."  
  
"There's no use Agrias," Gafgarion threw in, striding to their table. To his credit, he did not take a seat uninvited or take from their meal. "Most of the time, he's right. . . his ends justify his means."  
  
"And the other times?" Agrias dully took the bait.  
  
"I usually had my own plan, so it ends up bailing him or us out," Gafgarion remarked, lecturing the younger mercenary. "He's too reluctant, too timid."  
  
Grudgingly, Agrias grunted out her agreement. Meanwhile, Ramza simply sat there, being criticized and trying to find a way to stem the inevitable argument.  
  
"But. . . at least he knows that violence is a way to resolve an issue," Gafgarion continued. "Its getting him focused and angry enough that's the challenge. . ."  
  
This was where Agrias' opinions differed. "Vicious you mean. . . Was this why you were stricken from commanding the Touten Knights?" she in turn baited him, knowingly fully the reasons.  
  
"Those who are too weak to use the sword when necessary and achieve total victory and a solid resolution over an opponent should not be leading soldiers whose job is to slay. . ."  
  
"-To protect," Agrias interrupted.  
  
"Don't be a hypocrite," Gafgarion remarked. "You are a woman of the sword as much as the cloth; you know that slaying is part of the job, as you know that deception is part of the faith. You may attempt to minimize the bloodshed, but you still end up slaying those you try to make peace with."  
  
"My concept of 'total victory' does not entail executing those who are clearly outclassed." Agrias chose to let the church comment slip by, knowing she was miring herself deeper into an argument neither of them would renege from.  
  
"It does when they are too stubborn to surrender."  
  
"I know of your record, you've a history of executing those who have surrendered to you."  
  
"Situational ethics," Gafgarion admitted. "I did not want to divert my assets to safeguarding prisoners when I needed all of my men to press the assault or to continue on."  
  
"Yet how come only you in your knight order was the one who committed those murders?"  
  
"Those men were as guilty as I for allowing their deaths," Gafgarion threw back. "Lack of action is the same as complacency. I was strong enough to do what had to be done to achieve victory. They knew that, but they were too weak-willed."  
  
"Bastard. . . you violated the articles of war, and without those, its just slaughter!" Agrias spat out, before Ramza reached out and put his left hand on top of her right. Thankful and annoyed at the boy simultaneously, Agrias regained her calm.  
  
"What did you think war was?" Gafgarion laid down. "Protecting the weak and innocent?" he remarked with cold cynicism. "Those are not tangible ideas in the field. . . killing those who would kill you," Gafgarion, "That, is something that is all too easy to grasp." His knowing smile almost caused Agrias to snap.  
  
(How dare he imply that. . .) she thought.  
  
Knowing that he was out of his depth, and he could not get into the argument, Ramza stood up and addressed the Holy Knight. "If you want, we can prepare the baggage chocobo, ma'am." She almost laughed at that, grateful that someone was looking out for her, as he pointed at the small cluster of supplies which Rad sat near.  
  
Gafgarion nodded to her gruffly as she began to walk away. Rad took the cue and took out a list to check the inventory as he began inspecting the supplies.  
  
As a final parting shot, Agrias made one more remark. "Almost all of the soldiers were disappointed with the terms of the treaty. . . but one thing they didn't regret was bringing those responsible for war crimes to justice."  
  
Gafgarion scoffed. "If justice existed, I would have been executed, not simply stricken from knighthood."  
  
***  
  
"Thank you for pulling me away from that argument," Agrias told her self-appointed warden. The two did not spend much time on the earthen street, which was already beginning to fill with traffic of pedestrians in their drab clothing. Quickly, they strode into the stable adjacent to the tavern.  
  
Ramza chose not to point out the obvious. "The two of you might have tried to kill each other in the next battle," he told her. "Gafgarion is a mercenary like I am, and. . ."  
  
"I trust you enough Ramza, if that's what you're asking," Agrias remarked, her elation and fading anger once again turning into exasperation. "You told me why you're a mercenary, but its such a waste for you, not just of skill, but who you are. Well, I have to face this: I'd like to believe I am professional enough not to turn on an 'ally', but I do not want to risk losing my control in conflict. . ."  
  
The chocobo was waiting for them, oddly enough, sitting down with its double-jointed legs splayed forwards, preening its left wing, its bulbous right eye watching them with impatience.  
  
She felt thankful that Ramza understood, or at least, he accepted the facts and most importantly: he did not dig in the point. Still, the focus on her was something she wasn't very comfortable with. "Why are you with Gafgarion?" Agrias asked, walking over and stroking the chocobo along its head, wondering at the scaled, though silky, saffron feathers it possessed. "Of so many mercenary outfits in Gallione, why Gafgarion's band? Even if he did know who you were. . ."  
  
"There's something he holds against me. . ." Ramza admitted reluctantly. He had retrieved the chocobo's harness for its cargo. Together, the two began to secure the harness onto the bird, Agrias taking the head, and Ramza taking the body.  
  
"He's the link to your past. . ." Agrias surmised, before she shook her head. "You haven't run away. . . you've only taken a rest from following that path. So its not only up to your former superiors to accept you back in, but Gafgarion is minding you for them as well?"  
  
(You're as helpless as a child. . .) Agrias said in her mind.  
  
"He never told me," Ramza replied, "but it was obvious that he was sent to find me. I tried to resist at first, working alone. . ."  
  
(Now he's getting depressed. . .) Agrias noted, and as curious as she was, she felt the need to spare the boy's emotions. "Alone? Well, if it wasn't with him, its bound to have been bloodless."  
  
Ramza's dumbstruck expression was Agrias' cue to continue on.  
  
"Well," she urged, "tell me. . .."  
  
***  
  
Standing in front of the inn, Agrias and Ramza held the reins to the baggage chocobo. Traces of the sun was now obvious, with the lightening, though still dim, blue sky, and the ridges of a mountain to the right, highlighted in orange.  
  
Gafgarion had already departed, saying that he would return with 'permission' from the guards to depart the city at dawn. Thankfully, it saved Agrias another confrontation with the man, so soon after their hostile exchange.  
  
"From a knight to a thief. . . you have fallen," she mused. Helplessly, Ramza simply nodded, wondering why she was repeating such an obvious point. "I'm amazed you're as intact as you are now. . ." Agrias assessed, eyeing the boy in more than one perspective. "We'll have to talk about this again later."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ramza asked, almost afraid of what the answer would be.  
  
Agrias simply gave him a stern look. Turning the tables once more, she leaned forwards, her face only a handspan away from Ramza's. "Someone like you. . ." she began, "under the influence of someone like Gafgarion."  
  
"I'm not so dangerous. . ." Ramza softly replied. "But, that's not the point. . ."  
  
"Your first point is false, please," she started, "and stop trying to get my sympathy, if that's your intent with the 'I am worthless' ploy." Agrias had an innate sense of being blunt. Blunt, and harsh, yet fair, though the fairness was lost in the way she 'shared' her views.  
  
She waved over to Rad as the other mercenary walked out of the tavern. "Can you take care of the Chocobo?" she asked him.  
  
"Its what I came out here for," he quipped. "You can't travel through Araguay Woods in the dark; the canopy blocks out the starlight," he pointed out. "We'll catch him. . ."  
  
It was curious that the other mercenary seemed clairvoyant as to what she wanted to know.  
  
Agrias simply nodded as Rad took the reins of the Chocobo and performed his own checks on the harness straps and slings securing the cargo to the carrier. Agrias strode forwards, towards the bar, and with a flick of her left wrist, indicated that Ramza should -would- follow her.  
  
"I'm tossed between envying you, or pitying you," Rad snorted towards the timid mercenary. As he saw Agrias stiffen in her stride, he pressed his luck. "Better do as the 'mistress' says," he remarked, making a pun of Agrias' status as their current principal client.  
  
Ramza chose to ignore the taunts, being used to them, and followed Agrias within. There was nothing else to do. All the supplies and equipment they brought inside were stowed aboard the chocobo; only the other two knights had to waken and prepare.  
  
"I'm sorry about earlier Ramza, but you evaded the subject," Agrias apologized, no regret in her voice.  
  
Ramza accepted this. "I believe I would be more dangerous as a leader than as a follower. This way, I can curb some of Gafgarion's tendencies. . ."  
  
Agrias shrugged, beckoning him to follow her up the stairway. "It was obvious that you were a squad leader, or whatever you called the trainee officers in Gariland. You're competent enough, so you're problem is your afraid of responsibility. . . ?"  
  
"Moot point," Ramza pointed out, and Agrias agreed, dropping the thread.  
  
"As to curbing Gafgarion. . . I'll believe that, if it wasn't for the fact that he'd be less harmless dead than alive!" she growled, as she shook her head. "You see the evils around you, yet you tolerate their presence," she accused. "I know you are a just person Ramza, but if you continue to do this selective 'righteousness', its hypocrisy."  
  
Again, Ramza did not know what to say. Both of them had stopped at the hallway.  
  
Agrias not only felt frustrated at Ramza, but at herself. In her zealous outburst, she also accused herself. The Holy Knight thought of the own imperfections of the Church. Not so much imperfections so much as blights upon what it stood for, and the way it contradicted what it preached. "This isn't over, you confused noble runaway-turned-valiant mercenary," she remarked lightly, with a sarcastic, though jovial, tone, "but I feel as if this isn't going to do either of us any good."  
  
"Its just running away from ourselves to focus on the mission," Ramza pointed out, and as Agrias was about to snap back, he nudged his head towards the side, his left hand, the one that was away from the knights' room's door, gestured. "We'd simply get more distracted, and the issue would bother us in executing our duties."  
  
Agrias gave him a blank look, agreeing. "Why must we share with each other things we already know about ourselves?"  
  
As she was about to open the door, it opened, revealing the two knights within, Alicia already dressed, and with Lavian in the background, performing a personal check on the armor she now had equipped. "If you bottle it all in, you'll explode!" she exclaimed, taking a potion into her hands, shaking it, and popping the cork on the pouch's lip.  
  
Agrias and Ramza both winced as potion fizz flecked their faces. Agrias broke the tension that built up by chuckling, sincerely amused. "Don't worry, I'll be quite busy handling my subordinates. . ."  
  
To her surprise, Ramza smiled, not just in humor, but in recollection. "Memories. . ." he remarked, making a joke.  
  
"Like the tides. . ." Lavian said, walking out of the room, brushing by all of them, quite brusquely in fact. Sighing, Alicia followed.  
  
As Ramza and Agrias stood there, confused. Alicia had to refrain from rolling her eyes. "And just as thick as the coastal fog. . ." she added.  
  
*** En route to Araguay Woods from Dorter Trade City  
  
Attentively, even though they were quickly gorging themselves, the two other knights paid attention to the light briefing Agrias was giving them.  
  
"Do you think we'll have trouble with the forest we're going to pass through?" Lavian asked, after hurriedly chasing down the mouthful of butter grease-soaked bread she inhaled. She stopped as Alicia let out a small belch. "Rad's mentioned it before as a real obstacle."  
  
"Rad hates Goblins," Ramza tossed in. "Araguay Woods is infamous for their large population. . ."  
  
"Do you too?" Alicia interrupted, her mouth dribbling out crumbs.  
  
"She's from the country," Agrias said in monotone. . . "I should have mentioned that fact earlier."  
  
Ramza could almost hear the silent 'Country Bumpkin. . .' that followed.  
  
"So am I!" Lavian exclaimed, offended. "Just because we didn't grow up in the capital province. . ."  
  
Ramza chuckled. It was funny for him to see Agrias' subordinates so loose and carefree around their superior, and Agrias seemed to have a sense of humor too. Reluctantly, he addressed her question. "I've had my run- ins. . . we respected their villages and people, so the only ones who ever engaged were bandits to begin with."  
  
He caught Agrias' left eye catch his own. 'Death Corps?' she mouthed.  
  
The Holy Knight added a slight look of interest that told Ramza that it was a topic they would discuss again, alone. . . for better of for worse.  
  
Changing back to the main topic, Agrias continued. "Pardon us Ramza, but we don't have much in the way of 'local' experience." She phrased that statement carefully, implying that she wasn't familiar with Ivalice's provinces outside of Lesalia and Zeltennia.  
  
Ramza nodded, showing her in his acknowledgement that he did not take offense, that he didn't think that Agrias was boasting of her service record.  
  
"Normally we take the roads linking the villages, not 'cut-throughs' going across the remote areas.' Even in the war, this was true, and there was no remote area on the frontlines. . ." Agrias continued on, as Alicia and Lavian began to take their final portions. "Ramza?"  
  
"Is he our liason with the mercenaries?" Lavian pointed out clearly, though politely."  
  
"No point," Alicia threw in, "he's too different, and Gafgarion's the leader. . ."  
  
Ramza allowed the slight toss-ins to continue before replying. "If you think Gafgarion and Rad will go goblin-hunting. . . they won't. If at all possible, we'll be the ones avoiding the goblins."  
  
"Rad's mentioned before that it'll take us a day to get across the woods, can you make it any quicker?"  
  
Ramza shook his head. "I don't know the terrain. . ." he admitted. "I've studied the maps last night with him and Gafgarion, but Rad's the pathfinder."  
  
"Oh. . ." Agrias said, embarrassed.  
  
"You'll have to trust in Rad to get us through as fast as possible," Ramza told the three knights.  
  
The doubtful glares he received in reply was expected, though it still rebuffed him.  
  
Agrias gave a curt nod. "That's all I can say, but we have to rely on the mercenaries for escorting us," she told her two subordinates.  
  
"If there was only a woman to trust among them. . ." Alicia muttered, looking towards the tavern's front door, nudging her heads towards her it was slightly opened, implying someone was listening in.  
  
Ramza refrained from commenting on what was just said. He simply stared as the three knights strode out in single file from the tavern, dumbfounded.  
  
"Relax," the bartended called out to him as he was left all alone in the bar. "They're just saving face," he explained, shaking his head in pity as Ramza shrugged his understanding. "They got talked themselves in too deep, and they don't know how to apologize without making it seem awkward. With them," the bartender continued, "to admit wrong is a defeat, unless its by someone they consider a superior." The bartender continued. "Not that they don't respect you. . ." he said conciliatorily, as if it was a hollow statement.  
  
"I understand," Ramza replied, a rueful look on his face. "Though their way of saving face inflicts even more damage. . ." Both shared a laugh.  
  
"You don't seem to notice the abuse," the bartender tossed back.  
  
Ramza looked back towards the man and nodded, unsure of what else to do. (Shouldn't we be working together? Pretending to at least,) the boy thought, before following the knights out into the dusk. (I need a drink. . .)  
  
"Hatred or affection - if it isn't sincere, its nothing I take to mind."  
  
***  
  
With a minimum amount of words exchanged, the six set out. Gafgarion and Rad both took the point position, taking up half the street between them as the townspeople shied away. In a sharp contrast, Agrias and the other two knights kept together in a tight cluster around the baggage chocobo.  
  
Leisurely, Ramza brought up the rear, following along from a small distance. He saw that though they were never a group, there was little semblance of alliance now.  
  
Exiting from the eastern side from the city, the three knights were surprised that the guards did not even stop them as they began to walk across the plains, towards the hilled woods they would have to travel through.  
  
While the knights displayed alertness bordering on anxiety, the two other mercenaries seemed arrogant.  
  
An hour into the walk, and nearing the forests' edge, Alicia slowed down, allowing Ramza to catch up to her. Politely, he declined the drink of water she offered him. It was still early in the morning, and it was still cool. "I've noticed that there was no one else in that bar with us. . ." Alicia said.  
  
"People fear Gafgarion," Ramza told her, "even in Ivalice."  
  
Alicia was taken aback, the look of her curiosity changing to one of fear as she stared at the brown-armored Dark Knight's back ahead of them on the dirt road. "I've heard stories. . ."  
  
"He gets the job done," Ramza told her, "and human lives have value to him." It wasn't a compliment.  
  
Numbly, Alicia nodded, the cheer she felt gone as both of them walked up to Agrias, Lavian, and the baggage chocobo.  
  
"What is it Ramza?" Agrias asked, in a friendly tone.  
  
"Gafgarion's reputation," he replied, matching her pace.  
  
The Holy Knight took it in stride, giving the boy a sidelong glance, a rebuke in her eyes. (You dug yourself into this hole, even if they had to learn sometime.)  
  
"There's no way..." Alicia said, her voice subdued, continuing to stare over at the Dark Knight.  
  
Agrias said nothing, paying attention to the conversation, but staying silent as she lead the chocobo by its reins.  
  
It was Lavian who commented. "I thought it was all a façade for his reputation. Why would we hire such a man?"  
  
Feeling as if it was he who was being asked, Ramza shrugged. "Gafgarion was the one who took the commission, he said that it was important enough, even if it was an escort mission." At Ramza's admittance, Agrias' eyes widened, confusion filling her eyes.  
  
Alicia finally addressed Agrias. "Both of you hate each other, so you couldn't have approached him."  
  
Tiredly, Agrias replied. "He was assigned to us... our reinforcements were delayed first, and then diverted, so mercenaries were requested in their place."  
  
"My group was chosen for its..." Ramza paused, "'expertise' in the local regions." The way Alicia and Lavian visibly recoiled in his implication caused Ramza to turn his eyes downrange, past the other mercenaries. Agrias gave him a light nod, neither affirmation nor rejection, simply acknowledgment. "We all have experience fighting other Ivalicians," he clarified.  
  
"I was wondering how someone as young as you seems to have so much experience," Lavian observed.  
  
"I'd like to say they made the right choice," Alicia murmured, looking sidelong at Ramza. The uneasiness between Ramza and the two knights rose as everyone realized that Alicia's stare was the same as the one she had when she was looking at Gafgarion. "I hope. . ."  
  
*** Araguay Woods  
  
Another hour had passed, and the six were in the forest. The transfer from the plains to the uneven terrain of the forest went smoothly, almost unnoticed. The tension within the group was what was tangible, not the supposed danger of Araguay Woods. Not a single goblin had been spotted.  
  
Rad had ceased walking point, and the group traveled in a column. The knights learned that there was no formal trail, simply a host of landmarks that served as waypoints; the canopy hid the sky. Their weapons were sheathed. They were only passing through, and an overt show of aggression would only provoke an attack.  
  
The bottled-up energy and nervousness within her waiting to be unleashed, Alicia stepped out ahead of the group. Before Gafgarion could berate her, she called out. "Hey! There's nothing here."  
  
It was Rad that snarled at her. "Yes, and if you'll shut up, there won't be! Passing through is one thing, challenging them is another."  
  
Alicia held back the 'coward' remark on the tip of her tongue. "Challenge?" she asked, reneging and walking back to the rear row of knights; Ramza brought up the rear with the baggage chocobo.  
  
A 'wark' replied, but it did not come from the rear, but from somewhere out in front.  
  
"Chocobo? Delita's?" Agrias thought out loud as Rad sprinted up ahead, scouting out the spot where the cry came from.  
  
He gestured the group to approach. "I don't know. . . maybe, all I see are the goblins" he replied.  
  
Ramza had secured the baggage chocobo and was now making his way quickly to the ridge of the embankment they hid behind.  
  
"Goblins," Gafgarion remarked. "This should be quick."  
  
Agrias wanted to disagree, but she wanted to see for herself if this was a lead. She took the right wing of the formation, and Gafgarion anchored the left; as Ramza reached the center of the group, they advanced into the open.  
  
***  
  
The scene was a classic hunt. Six goblins: five regular and one black -the obvious leader- surrounded a single chocobo, whose saffron down stuck out in the browns and greens of Araguay.  
  
As Agrias stared across the shallow depression that the chocobo was across, she did not recognize it. Her burden increased as she was now committed to a fight that was pointless, except in saving the lone chocobo. "A chocobo? In this place?" she asked.  
  
"Must be pretty stupid to wander into Goblin's forest!" Gafgarion remarked. The goblins had turned their attention to their group now, eyeing the six warily, gauging how much threat the newcomers represented. The Dark Knight began to turn around, and Agrias was about to protest.  
  
She was caught between two positions. Gafgarion was in the 'right' since to not engage in this battle would save their time, and the chocobo wasn't vital to the mission. Yet, her inner core screamed at her to save the lone chocobo, even though she did not know the situation.  
  
As it was becoming a habit, Ramza was the tiebreaker. "Delita said wild chocobos are stronger than tame ones," he brought up, pointing out the Delita link to rouse Gafgarion's attention. "I wonder if he's strong in a fight?" he added.  
  
The Dark Knight was doubtful, wondering if he was being socially engineered by the armored squire. "You want to help him, Ramza?" Gafgarion shook his head, still keeping his weapon sheathed as he consulted his subordinate. "No money in that!"  
  
Again, Agrias noticed how Ramza was able to manipulate Gafgarion. (So he can curb that monster. . .) Agrias thought. As she stared into Ramza's eyes, she knew that he was aware of why she did not want to leave. (Duty versus Conscience,) she thought as she followed up the opportunity he gave to her. "He may help us save the Princess. . ."  
  
Everyone knew it was as much reality as fantasy.  
  
Faced with opposition from his own troops as well as his current principal, Gafgarion reneged.  
  
The goblins realized what was happening and already the five normal goblins were scrambling through the small clearing of the depression, passing the dried creekbed.  
  
As Agrias and Gafgarion prepared to cast protective and augmentative spells on the main body of their group, Ramza charged forwards. As Agrias called out to him to slow down, Gafgarion gave her a look that cut her off cold. Smirking, he shook his head, as if to say Ramza was in no danger. That, or the boy could die for all he cared for his aggression.  
  
Once more, Rad stayed to Alicia and Lavian as they advanced to melee with the goblin mob. Though Agrias had never engaged goblins, by the looks in Rad and Gafgarion's faces, she knew it would be slaughter; on the former it was channeled hatred, on the latter it was vicious anticipation.  
  
Ramza continued to sprint towards the yellow chocobo, which had turned away and tried to run into the forest thicket to save itself from the goblin mob. It succeeded in making its way to the confined place at the foot of an old tree. One way in, and one way out, the chocobo could control the amount of enemies it could fight at one time.  
  
One of the regular goblins tried to intercept Ramza, the short, stocky, ursine being altering its velocity not to cut off the mercenary, but to blindside him. It was forced off as Ramza slowed his advance and took a swipe at the goblin, forcing the ursine mammal, clothed in the same way humans were, to back off. This goblin stayed behind the other four charging in at the rest of Ramza's group, presumably to make sure Ramza didn't come back around.  
  
Amazed, Agrias watched as Ramza broke through the enemy line. She was both cheered and frustrated by what he did. Crazily, he exceeded the enemy's own aggression, but he failed to exploit it and wreak havoc on their flanks. However, he was doing what in her heart she knew was 'right': saving the chocobo as fast as he could.  
  
With Rad's subgroup 'protect'ed and 'haste'd, Agrias and Gafgarion began to engage the goblin's own flanks. She noticed how Gafgarion broke to the left, keeping the distance away from the enemy goblin. It was elementary that if you had a ranged way of attacking, you kept away from the melee unit you were harassing.  
  
However, Rad, Alicia, and Lavian did not have that luxury. They took the rush of three goblins upon them head-on.  
  
Rad and Lavian each slashed their aggressor, but they were struck backwards by the counterattacks of the goblins. Then the goblins lashed out themselves. Alicia and Rad were both stunned as a single goblin got between them and performed a spin-fist attack, using centrifugal motion to attack the both of them.  
  
This goblin was dispatched when Lavian lowered her shield to knock away the blow of another goblin and impaled her own target. Fluidly, she twisted the blade as it screwed into the goblin's torso, and just as swift brought it back out, smiting the same goblin with her shield. Her foe was dead before its body hit the ground.  
  
Alicia had dropped her dagger, and feeling smothered, she switched to her reserve; reaching into her pouch, she pulled out a dull, rust-colored sphere that was small enough to fit inside her closed grasp. Taking a small vial from a pouch built into the satchel's straps, she took off the cap and plunged it into a soft membrane on the underside of the sphere. Inverting the sphere, the powder in the vial mixed with the liquid within.  
  
As the sphere began to bubble, Alicia took aim and hurled it several paces away from the goblin that had been hounding her. The substance within had already begun to eat away at the container's walls and it burst free when the sphere shattered as it struck the goblin.  
  
The liquid mixture reacted with the air and burst into flame, the gel- like substance clinging to the goblin, whose fur was engulfed in the substance. Steeling herself, Alicia pretended to ignore the carnage she had caused upon another living being as she rushed back to render medical assistance to Lavian and Rad.  
  
The screams were something she would never forget, as was the pair of severed arms she passed by as she made her way to Rad, who stood over the corpse of his skill, watching her own opponent burn. His smirk too, was something she wished she could deny the existence of. She avoided his eyes as she tended to his bruises.  
  
Agrias had already dispatched her own opponent, as had Gafgarion; it had all been too easy.  
  
The black goblin had got itself too deep, fighting the yellow chocobo as Ramza approached. Calculatedly, Ramza partially severed the goblin's head, its thick neck still attached by the front muscles. Falling upon the ground, the Goblin was in shock, its eyes turning milky as Ramza swiftly finished him, stomping down his left heel into its thick snout, shattering the creature's skull.  
  
Less than half a minute to the fight, and it was already over. There were no survivors, and amongst Ramza's group, there were no serious injuries. The bruises were being attended to.  
  
Agrias had watched Ramza dispatch the final goblin, and she hurried to him and the chocobo they had saved.  
  
"W-wark!" the chocobo cried out as he was coaxed out of his hiding place.  
  
"You seem alright," Ramza said, tilting his head as he examined the bird. He immediately pulled it back as the bird darted its head forward to attack him.  
  
Backing away, Ramza stepped back down into the downgrade of the depression. Giving him a strange look, Agrias passed him by to the chocobo, where she removed her right hand's glove and caressed the chocobo's neck. Silently, she nodded her appreciation to Ramza as she led the tense chocobo away.  
  
Gafgarion laughed, sarcasm in his tone. "You're lucky," he called out to the chocobo from his side of the battlefield. "You should thank Ramza."  
  
***  
  
"What about the bodies?" Alicia asked, gesturing to the corpses, staring at the charred remains of her own kill.  
  
"Leave 'em to rot," Rad spat out, taking his sword and wiping it off the fur of the one he had slain.  
  
As a whole, the incognito knights of St. Konoe pretended that Rad did not exist.  
  
"From nothing into nothing," Ramza said quietly. "They stay as they lay."  
  
The ground wasn't stained with blood: there wasn't enough blood spilled, yet the terrain felt tainted now. The goblins' corpses almost blended into the scenery.  
  
"Nothing, exactly," Gafgarion told the group. "Nothing left here to merit our attention. Let's move."  
  
For once, there was no complaint.  
  
***  
  
The six people and two chocobo were near the forest's edge. The trees have grown more sparse and in between. They could see the sky once more. Surprised, Agrias noted that it was twilight, the sky already dark, the sun obscured in the west by the forest. Where the sky should've been shaded in blues, there was an orange scheme tonight.  
  
The chocobo they had rescued nuzzled her side. His name was Boco according to the pendant he wore that hung from a woven cord around his neck. A soft ticklish laugh emanated from her, and she ignored the looks she received from the two other mercenaries, except for Ramza's.  
  
His wasn't in amusement or ridicule, but from curiosity of her to confusion at Boco, who was actively hostile to his rescuer.  
  
No one had spoken since the slaughter hours ago. They had kept on walking after that, eating on their feet, unwilling to make any more delays. No reason had popped up, but tensions ran high, fortunately there were no false alarms.  
  
It had been a fast march throughout the day. Without taking a midday break, the group had been walking almost non-stop. Camp would be made as soon as they made it out of the forest, but they would be too tired to go farther in the night.  
  
Gesturing Ramza over, Agrias calmed Boco, being firm as she caressed the down on his large neck. She found herself cooing to the chocobo, soothing the heated bird. Timidly, Ramza approached, wary of the chocobo. As Agrias again shifter her attention to soothing the chocobo, she saw something in its eyes. She saw recognition, and in that recognition, she saw fear, fear that translated to anger.  
  
*** East of Araguay Woods  
  
Alicia and Lavian joined Ramza and Agrias as they fed the chocobos. The baggage Chocobo enjoyed reclining on the ground, finally free of its load. Contentedly, it pecked slowly away at the sack of grains Ramza had placed on the ground, rolling down the sack's lip to make a lip for the chocobo's 'dish'.  
  
Agrias was standing, along with the chocobo she was feeding. Ungloved, she held the feedbag with her left hand, and feeding Boco from her right. When the chocobo finished licking off even the grain dust off her palm, she gave the bird affectionate strokes from the top of its head, down its neck, and along its back all the way to its tail feathers. Her armament was laid down on the ground atop her discarded wizard's robe.  
  
"Camp has been made," Lavian told them, giving her partner a sidelong look that was all too knowing.  
  
"Camp? If you mean a couple of tents with no campfire in the first clearing we found, I guess you could call it that," Alicia added in her own opinion. She cocked her head towards Araguay Woods in the west. "Still, its better than spending the night there."  
  
Shrugging, Ramza accepted their news. "We packed salted meat and bread for food. . . thankfully they don't need to be heated. Since there's enough feed for the baggage chocobo we can keep the chocobo we found." Ramza had some cheer in his voice, but all four humans knew the cost at which their new 'pet' came. The goblins paid with their lives, and the humans lost a little of their 'humanity'.  
  
"Want to pet him? Go on," she said, lightness in her voice. Shrugging, Ramza held up his gauntleted hands. "All right. . . later then," she told him, letting Ramza know that he had not escaped his fate. She turned to look at Boco. "Hm, I wonder, how do you know him?" she asked the chocobo in a gentle voice.  
  
"I don't think it likes me," Ramza said to her, and Agrias wondered if her whispering was heard.  
  
"'It' has a name, Ramza: Boco," she corrected him, lifting up Boco's necklace.  
  
Taking it, Ramza leaned down as Boco grew agitated. "Boco," he read. "I'm sorry," he told the chocobo. Flipping it over, Ramza winced to see better in the dying light. "There's something else on the back," Ramza told Agrias.  
  
"What is it?" Alicia asked, curious.  
  
Ramza looked up at the chocobo. Silently, he let it go silently. Turning to Lavian after he undid the latches on the underside of his forearms, he asked her, "Excuse me, could you please?"  
  
"Gladly," Lavian replied, blinking as she helped Ramza remove his gauntlets. Her nose wrinkled as she began to unwind the protective linen wrap that covered his hands and forearm. "Do not be ashamed," she said, smiling in sympathy, "My own are probably just as ripe."  
  
Ramza gave her an appreciative look that was all too effervescent, sincere yet ethereal, fading into numbness as he knelt down and proceeded to run his fingers under Boco's layer of down.  
  
The chocobo had frozen, then loosened, not relaxed, but resigned. It tilted its head and neck, its left eye staring right down onto Ramza.  
  
Agrias, Alicia, and Lavian found themselves likewise curious as to what Ramza was doing, as he began to run his hands softly in a shallow curve.  
  
"You're a ghost too, aren't you? I didn't know your name. . ." Ramza told the chocobo first before turning to Alicia and Lavian in apology.  
  
"Everyone has their secrets, but we can't understand unless you tell us," Lavian told him.  
  
"That doesn't mean we don't like having you around Ramza," Alicia followed up. "So. . . what is it?"  
  
Ramza touched the necklace again, "He belonged to Wiegraf. . . of the Death Corps."  
  
Kneeling down besides Ramza, Agrias traced her hands alongside his. "A scar... something that only you could have given to Boco," she said softly, running her hand along. "Wiegraf you said, Wiegraf Folles?" she said.  
  
"Yes. . ." Ramza said softly, locking in her eyes.  
  
The questions in both Ramza and Agrias were traded silently.  
  
"I knew his sister, Miluda," Agrias told Ramza.  
  
His eyes dimmed, not in pain, but in sadness. Realization dawned in Agrias eyes as she dropped her gaze, examining Ramza's face, but no longer holding his eyes with her own.  
  
In retrospect, Agrias would've been thankful about being distracted from Princess Ovelia. At that moment, she was torn between lashing out in anger at what had already transpired and feeling compassion for the boy. (Compassion for a killer?) her conscience accused.  
  
Boco stepped back, exposing the two who had knelt beneath him. He continued to eye Ramza accusingly, no reconciliation made. Uncomfortably, Alicia and Lavian left the two, taking the two chocobo towards the stream by their campsite.  
  
"This complicates things. . ." She told him, as they continued to kneel across each other. "Don't expect forgiveness from me," she said gently, "if that is what you seek."  
  
"Only acceptance of who I am," Ramza replied in return.  
  
"That is asking for even more than I can give; I'm not your confessor," Agrias told him, a touch of regret in her voice. "That is not my duty," she said sadly.  
  
"And this is?" he asked her. He was taken aback when her look changed from doubt and sadness to an aggressive façade, frowning at him, her eyes seeking his, almost daring him to look away. Her own gaze wavered as he held her look, not challenging her, but not allowing himself to be dominated.  
  
It was Agrias who shattered the tension that had built up between them. She was frustrated that she was feeling almost giddy within, especially in light of what Ramza had revealed, and what he might -in her mind- he was trying to do to her.  
  
In the end, she refused to give him any initiative, any power over her, to influence her, to manipulate her. Yet within, her inner self was laughing at her.  
  
Reaching forwards, and unsure of what to say, Agrias reached for the extended straps on Ramza's breastplate. "We'll talk of this later. . . when Princess Ovelia is in safety." Agrias wanted to stop all this, all the confusion that was being heaped upon her, the uncertainty, fascination, and concern she had for Ramza.  
  
Ramza raised his arms as Agrias undid the clasps and pulled them back, his torso armor falling apart in two halves. He wanted to protest Agrias' dismissal of the issue, yet he was thankful all the same. It was a reprieve, a temporary one, but he treasured the relief it brought him. Reaching forwards, he began to undo Agrias' own armor. "After?"  
  
"Yes," she told him firmly, "after I get you away from Gafgarion. Ramza - if I have to kidnap you, will be a knight of St. Konoe or another order in Lesalia, not the Hokuten."  
  
"Is that a promise?" Ramza asked, staring up into her face as he was leaning forwards, undoing Agrias' shoulder straps.  
  
"Now you're leaving it to me to decide your future?" Agrias asked in return. She moved her torso, rolling her neck, allowing herself to relax and to loosen the bunched flesh her armor had contained.  
  
"I wouldn't say that. But I am tempted to throw my lot in with yours."  
  
"You already have. . ." Agrias reminded him, looking up into the darkening orange sky.  
  
The blood moon had risen  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Many, MANY things left unsaid there. I didn't want to get bogged down, and as it is, it is far too melodramatic as is now.  
  
In case you were wondering, with the entire armor removal thing. . . nothing sexual was implied, though I'd be lying through my teeth (as would Agrias and Ramza) if I claimed that there was nothing else implied.  
  
Lots of things are said between the characters, and frankly, its just REPETITIVE (not in the good way either of linking and repeating good traits into a nice melodic rhythm) to EXPLAIN all the goddamn nuances.  
  
Again, I'm coming to a conflict between 'Moving the Story Along' and 'Lots of O-So-Good! Detail'. I lost the 'happy medium' along the way. . .  
  
Sort of like the 'horror' stories of volleyball in high school, where you either DON'T make it over the net, or you pop it into the rafters (or ricochet it off the ceiling's beams onto someone's face ^_^). . .  
  
Also, if you write, I recommend never mixing Goo Goo Dolls with Rammstein in your music mix. . . boy did I ask for the confusion I had when writing this!  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Reader's Response Corner***  
  
Umm, nothing much to say, is that a good thing?  
  
In case you were wondering, there IS a bit of a soundtrack for the fic. . .  
  
Once more, if anything wasn't clear, just ask away, or criticize away.  
  
Its nice to know what I'm doing wrong (as opposed to just what I am doing right, but don't stop the comments! ^_^), well, not 'nice' so much as useful.  
  
***Reader's Response Corner*** 


	5. 04 Crimson Crescendo

***Pre-Story Notes***  
  
Yay, the story is chugging along. I'm discontent with the last chapter, but yeah. . . I'm too lazy, meh.  
  
In a Nutshell: Yet another nighttime talk. . .  
  
Oh yes, it also covers the Zirekile Falls battle.  
  
By the way, if you though Chapter 04 looked weird, it was because FanFiction.Net did not preserve my '. . .'s. I'm reposting that chapter so if you feel like it, go back and read it again, and hopefully it'll be less confusing.  
  
***Pre-Story Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-05 "Crimson Crescendo" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 05)  
  
***January 2nd, Year 2. East of Araguay Woods***  
  
Ramza and Agrias' campsite.  
  
Surprised at her own actions, Agrias helped Ramza set up their portion of the camp. The chocobo were not allowed to roam, and they nestled near each other. Lavian and Alicia had declined their offer to sleep near them, citing reasons that they did not need to be kept awake by Ramza and Agrias' 'chattering'. The other two mercenaries were awake, laying low, but alert; they would not sleep tonight, but would serve as the watch.  
  
"My troops could've taken the second watch," Agrias remarked as she lay back, already in her blanket on the ground. "We are used to little sleep. Rad and Gafgarion would be too tired tomorrow."  
  
Ramza shook his head. "No. . . if we catch Delita tomorrow," he quickly amended his statement after seeing Agrias' left eyebrow arch, "when we catch him tomorrow, and there is a fight, sleep is of little use to those two. . ."  
  
"They enjoy the hunt," Agrias said, identifying Ramza's implication. "Its of no surprise. Highly unprofessional. . ."  
  
"If what we do is unprofessional, Agrias, why have you not voiced your complaint?" Ramza asked, bringing up a topic that had been bothering him. "You are our principal. If we fail, war is inevitable."  
  
"Because I need him, and people like Gafgarion are better left unfettered. . ."  
  
"Like he was in the war?" Ramza countered.  
  
Agrias reined in the outburst that threatened to rip itself free from her throat. "If you are implying that I am willingly using an evil for my gain, then yes!" she said in a low tone. "Stop beating around the bush and hit me with your truth Ramza. I think we respect each other that much. You seem to be committed to my cause, and I understand that, yet you don't display much concern."  
  
"Neither have you. If Ovelia is secured by Goltana at Bethla Garrison on Limberry's border, war erupts to tear Ivalice apart. Yet, we are operating without any," Ramza emphasized, "support. None at all. I understand that there is little point now, and in the time that it takes to raise the 'rescue' party needed, Ovelia will either be hostage, or dead."  
  
"If you point out the obvious Ramza, you should have something to expand upon, something I don't already know. . ."  
  
"It isn't just practicality is it?" Ramza asked her gently, opposing the hard edge in Agrias' own words. "Its your pride. . ."  
  
"Argue something more relevant to the situation," Agrias replied tersely. "Pride is something we all have."  
  
"I'm afraid too. . ." Ramza told her. "So much responsibility is upon us six. . . if we fail, Ivalice will tear itself apart." He met her deflection with his own rebuff.  
  
"I would be amazed that you haven't pointed out the futility of so much destruction over the loss of one mortal person if I didn't know you were of noble descent Ramza. I don't know which family you came from in Gallione, but you have 'Hokuten' written all over you, at least before Balbanes handed down command to his pompous son, Dycedarg." Agrias collected herself. "I'm sorry if I snapped at you, but the things you've said, no matter which tone they are spoken in, they will spark my ire."  
  
"If I apologize, it would be hollow and serve to annoy you even more."  
  
Agrias shook her head at Ramza's statement. "Yes, and I require Gafgarion, because as bloodthirsty as he seems, he too cares about Ivalice. I know he will do what he thinks is good for this country. I just don't know how much blood he'll spill in doing so. . ."  
  
Ramza too, was lying on the ground, staring up at the sky. There were no stars about tonight, even though there was no human-caused light nearby. The scarlet moon was almost glorious in its contrast to the dark blue night sky. "Do you believe in omens," he said, pointing up at the sky.  
  
"I believe in St. Ajora," Agrias repeated automatically.  
  
"So you do believe in omens then," Ramza finished.  
  
"Would you stop changing the subject?" Agrias asked him, "Even if it does relate, please, stop being so nebulous."  
  
"You complain about me pointing out the obvious."  
  
"There's a difference between saying what I already know and being direct!" Agrias turned her head to look at her companion. "Don't claim that you cannot tell the difference."  
  
"I don't know enough about you."  
  
Agrias did not let Ramza escape her moonlight inquisition with that comment. "You have to have some assumptions about me. What kept you from acting on them?"  
  
"I did not want to risk anything. . ."  
  
"Risk?" Now Agrias was confused even more. "What could you stand to risk with me, except my annoyance for dancing around me every time I want a direct answer? You've acted independently enough before," Agrias pointed out. "Why can't you do that now?"  
  
Ramza raised his head from where it reclined on the grass that served as his mattress. He stretched his neck, popping some of his bones with a series of light snaps that made Agrias' skin crawl. "You're asking me questions I can't answer. . ." he told her.  
  
Surprised at her own reaction, which was nothing, Agrias just sighed. "True, any answer you gave me would've been suspect. You can still try. . ." she remarked, her reply halfhearted.  
  
"Lady Agrias," Lavian spoke, her form on the ground masked by the darkness as was laid down. "Pardon my interruption of your and Ramza's discussion, but we cannot sleep."  
  
"Stuff it! Both of you. . ." Alicia groaned, blunt in her complaint.  
  
Agrias ignored the insubordination, more annoyed at Ramza's chuckling. "I apologize," she said, "we'll try to be more discreet. . ."  
  
"Hopeless," Alicia muttered, and no more was said from the other two knights.  
  
Agrias sat up as she heard rustling coming toward her in the grass. She knew it came from Ramza's direction, and that only worried her more. Somehow, she resisted the instinct to go for her sword, easily within arm's reach, hidden underneath her beddings. "What do you want?" she whispered, almost annoyed.  
  
"You're not being very clear in what you want either. . ." Ramza whispered back.  
  
"You're going to get wet lying on the grass," she lectured him. Her eyes having adjusted to the dark, her night vision was still poor, but she could make out the form of Ramza, lying on his front, his face just a handspan away from hers. "You have on concept of personal space, do you?" she continued.  
  
Ramza shrugged in apology, and she could see him wince -she saw the light refracted in his eyes disappear as he did so- as he noticed it created more rustling noises.  
  
"Its fine," Agrias whispered quickly as Ramza lifted himself up on his forearms to shuffle back. "Again Ramza, its because you're not telling me everything. You're doing this for the good of Ivalice, that I can understand. You're doing this because you feel its just, that I can understand. But you, even with your capacity to do all this, you can't bring yourself to be free. . ."  
  
"Can you?" Ramza whispered back, softly, slowly.  
  
Agrias settled back down to recline on her right side, looking down upon Ramza, who craned his neck up to maintain eye contact. The reflections of the blood-red moon in his eyes bothered her, even though she knew she had the superior position. "Now, what do you mean by that?"  
  
"You want to help me?" Ramza told her, confused.  
  
Agrias blinked, but she held her tongue. She considered her reply, flustered at her companion, not wanting to have an outburst. "Why wouldn't I?" she asked him.  
  
"This isn't your problem. . . and I killed-"  
  
"Don't," Agrias told him bluntly. "I made you promise me, not until Princess Ovelia is safe. After we, after all of us are safe somewhere, Lesalia, Lionel, anywhere but Limberry or Zeltennia!" Agrias whispered passionately.  
  
"I'm sorry for burdening you. . ."  
  
"Would you stop apologizing?" Agrias told him. It was her turn to look up as Ramza scooted over and sat himself down, leaning back on his hands. "Well?"  
  
Ramza simply shrugged, not looking back at her, but tilting his chin up towards the patch of sky he observed. Oddly enough, it was the stars he focused on, not the blood moon. "I don't think you would like to talk about what may happen."  
  
Agrias grunted. "It'll come soon enough, I don't see the purpose of being wound up unnecessarily. I will be prepared, that is enough." Somewhat annoyed, and uncomfortable at Ramza's position, Agrias sat up again, and still on her beddings, imitated his posture, tucking her knees in towards herself, hugging them closed, and resting her chin down on them. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm too anxious to go to sleep."  
  
"Mind if I kept you company?" Ramza asked her.  
  
"Its your loss," Agrias told him, falsity in her voice. It was she who was disappointed when Ramza chose not to reply. For a moment, fearing that she had offended Ramza, she looked over to see his reaction. Casually, he stared up into the night sky, her remark either forgiven, ignored, or even snubbed. (If you can't beat them. . .) she thought, resigning herself to mimic what the boy did, staring up to see watch the same patch of sky as the boy, trying to lose herself into the stars. (Like watching a clock. . . but. . . nicer) Agrias admitted.  
  
Marking midnight as the sun marked the afternoon, the blood red moon rose to take its crowning position in the sky, invading the tranquil sea of stars that Agrias tried immerse herself in.  
  
*** January 3rd, Year 2. East of Araguay Woods  
  
Dawn came only too slowly to Agrias. Allowing herself to sit on the ground, her calves on either side of her, Agrias reclined in her favorite position. It only made her wait less antagonizing. The dark blue sky she favored faded with the crimson moon, which faded to its dusty shades as began to sink, its crescendo over, as the resolution of that night began to commence. She began to focus, not putting herself in some mental state, but simply to think about what she must do, and most importantly, why she must do them.  
  
The time where thought would be a detriment was soon in coming, and Agrias satiated her desire to ponder what was in her mind, loose bits of whims and concerns, forgetting for just a moment the overwhelming purpose she was committed to fulfilling. She wanted to declare that she would be willing to do anything, bear any burden, pay any price, but Agrias had seen reality, had seen it in war, proven true time and time again. (Maybe the truth is something everyone does know. . .) Agrias admitted, (Its just a matter of admitting it).  
  
Losing count of the times she glanced over to look at the boy who was at her side, Agrias opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. There was so much to say between them, so much she wanted to know of him. For some reason, she felt drawn to the boy. Worried for his safety, curious as to how he was connected to her, through duty, through crisis, and through their consciences. She felt that those weren't the only reasons why. Yet another complexity Agrias did not want in her life, yet something she felt would distract her in a manner she might not just mind.  
  
Growing disgruntled at the interruption of whatever serenity she had found, Agrias once again directed her gaze to the sky. Somehow, the grayish blue dawn did not please her. Seeing gray, even if it came before the light, was not something she had always liked. To her, it heralded darkness, an omen she did not want in face of what today would bring. She did not need a reminder that life grows dark before it gets light.  
  
The sun had yet to crest the mountains to the east. Agrias took another scan of her surroundings, ignoring Ramza as he gazed at her. Lavian and Alicia were still asleep, while she saw Gafgarion's brown helmet poking out from behind a rock that he had sat behind. Again she wondered at the nature of her 'allies'. Rad still stood guard, even though he had stayed alert during the whole night, disturbing her with his forays, now he seemed just as energetic as always.  
  
His own 'patrols' had bothered her. It was the prelude to a hunt in her eyes, as she had kept track, uncomfortably, of where he was as he stalked through the tall grass, disappearing from sight, and only the excitement he radiated gave away where he was. Agrias found that she could tell where the mercenary was just by the malevolence he gave off was disturbing to her. A useful ability, but one she wished she never had cause to learn, even if she had used it to save herself and those under her command before.  
  
The two chocobo were also asleep, and she smiled at the sight of them, where they were nestled down, the baggage chocobo whose name she never learned cooped like a sitting hen, while Boco sat on the ground, his legs splayed forwards, and his head moving slowly in his sleep. Quickly, Agrias let the smile die before it had fully developed, feeling awkward.  
  
Finally her gaze fell onto Ramza, and she frowned, noticing him in turn staring into her eyes. She did not feel frustration at the lack of communication, wishing that she could prolong this moment, yet another escape from her duty, as pleasant as it was. Not simply pleasant, but justified. Somehow, it felt. . . proper, was the word that came to her mind.  
  
Agrias felt a little numb, and a little fatigue. This had culminated in what she had come to call the 'haze;' when she was caught in the urge to retire in slumber, but refused to give in, for her anxieties and pent-up excitement would not allow her respite. She wasn't as functional as she would've been with a good night's sleep, but she would've taken the haze over a night of tumultuous 'rest' that would render her even more fatigue when she awoke. Even with the dull ache and fatigue that resided in the edges of her conciousness, Agrias savored the amplified focus that she felt; focus that fatigue and stress can bring to such sharpness. It was another ability she wished she had never acquired.  
  
Somehow, she knew that Ramza also went through the haze.  
  
Ramza broke their staring contest, and Agrias sighed. He opened his mouth to yawn, swallowing the saliva that had built up his mouth. He yawned, looking peacefully weary. She wondered why he had such a soft smile in his face, untouched by sadness, regret, or even contemplation; a simple smile, open, sincere, satisfied.  
  
The peace was broken for her when Alicia stirred, talking in her sleep, obviously beginning to waken. Rad stopped his pacing and gazed over at the direction of her knights, and Agrias felt distrust. Then, Gafgarion stood from where had had sat against the rock, turning to gaze over at Agrias. In his eyes was a challenge. Friendly or not, Agrias felt that she did not need this at this moment, on this day.  
  
She caught Ramza's head playfully cock to the side as he tried to lock onto her eyes again. Regretfully, Agrias refused the respite he offered her. Taking a breath, she said her first words to him that morning. "Evanescence," she said softly, almost sadly, surprised that her own voice sounded sleepy, yet warm and. . . satisfied. With her left hand, she slowly waved her fingers in a sequence, making a slight sweep, indicating the passing night and the solitude and serenity it gave her.  
  
Ramza blinked, easily understanding what she meant even as he lacked words to reply. Taking the initiative, he rose, wobbling slightly on his legs, causing Agrias' smile to transform into a smirk, before he sorely waddled over to her. Agrias giggled as Ramza almost fell over when she took his hand as he helped her stand up.  
  
Taking a look once more at the ridges to the east, Agrias sighed as she brought her left hand back to herself. "Such a sad word."  
  
***  
  
Zirekile Area  
  
The pursuit had taken precedence over everything else, and this was reflected in everyone's conduct. Alicia and Lavian had risen readily, and preparations were swift. Few words were exchanged, few were needed. This day was one two days in coming, days in which they had each thought to themselves what would be required.  
  
Though they knew it to be tiresome and exhaustive, for the most part they could only worry, and now, in the execution of their mission, most everything else was rendered insignificant. Even the chocobos took up the tempo of their human companions.  
  
In a quick march, the group quickly made their way to the rocky foothills before the mountains. The terrain was rough, but with the addition of Boco to their baggage handling, it wasn't so harsh as everyone carried minimal equipment. Armor was still worn, weapons were still equipped, but no one carried any supplies save Alicia, and even then, she had taken the precaution of adding the spare chemist's satchel on the lightly-burdened Boco.  
  
Agrias and Ramza were almost eager in their drive, leading the group, while Rad grimly kept pace, with Gafgarion somehow kept up, looking nonplussed as he easily managed the terrain.  
  
Talk had been minimal, limited only to essential communications as they hiked up the steadily worsening ground. Everyone was prepared. Six on one, and the one was hampered by a hostage. Yet, the hostage was everything, the only reason they were putting themselves through this; all this hell, all this hardship -and the potential for only more of the same torment if they failed, over one person: Ovelia. What was truly incredulous was that no one questioned this, not even the mercenaries.  
  
***  
  
The idea of multiple parties had been considered, and discarded. With Princess Ovelia, her captor had only one route open to him outside of the beaten path, which is why they had chosen path which went around to the higher passes, since the lower passes were controlled by friendly forces. The irony was that those same friendly forces could not be called upon.  
  
The idea of time was something they cared little of as they continued to trek towards Zirekile Falls. Reaching one of the planned waypoints, the group expected to hear the sound of the waterfall. What they heard did resemble the soft turmoil, only with a metallic tone. . . that and the sound of voices. . . angry voices.  
  
Of all of them, it was Gafgarion who reacted first, and in a burst of speed, ably traversed the rock terrain, up alongside the stream that came down from the mountains. Following closely were Ramza and Rad, while Agrias and her knights struggled to keep up. Even with the frenzy, Agrias kept herself in control and in the rear, making sure the others' approaches were solid and some order was present. The chocobo were left behind, the baggage chocobo settling itself by the stream, watching the humans dispassionately, while Boco hesitated, and finally began to follow the Holy Knight.  
  
If something could go wrong, it would.  
  
Not simply could, but would, bringing one to question why such things were so.  
  
As it was, their approach kept them at a disadvantage as they continued to trek upwards, nearing the crossing point of the small stream at the base of Zirekile Falls.  
  
Like it or not, they were about to engage in battle by interrupting one already in progress.  
  
***  
  
Bursting onto the scene, the six humans and lone chocobo were at the bottom of the falls, still on the west side of the stream, which became a river that led to the ocean. Up on the embankment next to the angled cliff that the waterfall cascaded down were several knights. Two on the west bank, and three on the right.  
  
These were ignored by Agrias, who had eyes only for what those caught in between; Princess Ovelia, and Delita, together on the ladder bridge that linked the two banks. The fact that the captor had his sword drawn further stirred the anger Agrias felt. It was only the fact that it was directed away from Ovelia and towards the three knights on the right that kept her from breaking out in a charge.  
  
Somehow, it was obvious, others had gotten to Delita and the princess first, and it wasn't bandits, it was another knight order; ones wearing the familiar emblem of the white lion, that of the Hokuten.  
  
There was a standoff as the newcomers entered the field, albeit on low ground. Gafgarion was the first to the level ground the bridge spanned. Weapons had already been drawn, and Agrias took measure of her situation, either to rush under the bridge in the stream, or to try and fight her way up the embankment with the rest.  
  
"Princess Ovelia!!" Agrias called out, excitement taking over, knowing that their presence was already known.  
  
Standing unsteadily in the middle of the ladder bridge, Ovelia cried back, "Agrias!!"  
  
Gafgarion only snorted, facing off the two Hokuten knights, who somehow let him hold his ground, as if to bait the rest the rest of the group up to their level.  
  
One of the knights spoke to him. "Great, here comes a crowd!" he cursed. "Gafgraion! Kill them!" Taking a look down at a fallen Hokuten knightm he continued. "And do it now!"  
  
Casually, Gafgarion smiled, and turned to face the others below him. "Don't know what's going on, but its in the contract!"  
  
Immediately, the odds have twisted. What would have been a confusing three-way battle was still the same, except in the balance of numbers. Immediately, the three knights consolidated, even though Agrias wanted nothing more than to charge after Ovelia. They quickly got some distance away from Rad, as well as Lavian beginning to face off Ramza, who eyed the trio, looking upon them with the intensity they had seen him direct against his foes.  
  
It was a still a stalemate, but someone had yet to break the peace.  
  
The situation was already known, but Agrias asked, wanting to buy time, "Gafgarion, are you betraying us?" It was rhetorical.  
  
In return, Gafgarion replied in a pragmatic fashion. "Betraying you?" he began. "C'mon, this is business." He swept his free left hand to indicate Ramza and Rad. "Our job is to kidnap the princess 'unharmed'." He smirked as Agrias almost broke her resolve and charged. "The job," he clarified, "is to kill you all and keep things quiet!"  
  
"What are you getting at?" Refusing to allow herself to even look at Ramza, Agrias continued to stall, trying to think of what she could do, desperate with the anger that realization of futility could bring about. She could drag it on for so long before all she was reduced to was to take as many with her. Death or Glory -neither were an option for her; only fulfilling her duty while acquitting her conscience. "The kidnapping's a sham?"  
  
The words meant little to her. The time to think over them and glean their significance would come later. . . should she live.  
  
Gafgarion laughed as he sidestepped over to the ledge, looking down on them. "The princess is in the way!" he pointed out. "The prince should be next in line. If she's alive there'll be nothing but trouble!"  
  
Had Agrias been thinking about it, she would have found the irony in his words. Gafgarion was loyal to Ivalice, but that did not entail loyalty to the Princess.  
  
Delita looked back over at them, joining in. "Since you're going to die," he remarked in a grim, yet still cynical fashion, "I'll let you help me. . ." he paused. "If the princess' kidnapped and killed by Goltana, they'll be rid of her and his rivals." He turned his head, looking over at Ramza. "I'm sure that's how Prince Large wrote that scenario. No, Dycedarg probably wrote it. Don't you agree, Ramza?"  
  
Alicia and Lavian turned to look at each other, angry themselves. They were about to potentially meet their fates, and yet this exchange was going on. Yet, it was taking up time that they could use to savor the rest of their lives. Wordlessly, they confirmed their conspiracy between them.  
  
Gafgarion was flanked by the two Hokuten Knights on the west bank. "Right, Ramza. Let's get them all!"  
  
As Ramza ducked low, Lavian brought her shield forward, already readying her own counterattack. The boy dug his left hand into small cliff face, and heaving his right leg over the ledge's edge, brought himself up to Gafgarion's level, swiping upwards as he rose, forcing the Dark Knight back.  
  
"Another helpless sacrifice. . ." Ramza told him, continuing to drive the Dark Knight back, "No more!" he growled out, his voice lacking the intimidating effect, "There must not be any more victims like Teta!"  
  
As Ramza leapt up and began to fight Gafgarion, Agrias felt a small amount of relief. She saw Delita freeze at Ramza's declaration, but ignored it as he did not follow up with any action except to charge across the eastern end of his bridge as Ovelia broke to the left. Meaning, Agrias would drive forwards, even if she had to fight the foundling river's current.  
  
With a grunt, and a nudge of her head, Alicia and Lavian followed Ramza as they ran up the natural ramp to the embankment. Committing most of her force to the boy, Agrias met Rad's furious rush.  
  
Ducking to the right, she extend her shield to smite the mercenary squire's sword, unable to bring hers own to thrust into him. She broke away, unable to launch her own counterattack in the mercenary's aggressive drive. Then, Boco came to her assistance. The chocobo, ignored, attacked who it deemed to be threatening Agrias.  
  
Rad died, still driving forwards, forcing Agrias back, as his cranium was caved in by the impact of Boco's massive beak. Agrias ignored Rad's falling corpse even as his face split and fell apart, as if Boco had shattered a grotesque human mask he had worn.  
  
Knowing that the situation would bottleneck up on land, Agrias chose to run under the bridge, towards the small waterfall, where she would begin her climb. Surprised, Agrias was almost bowled over as Boco continued his own rush, ducking his head under her legs. Her shield and sword flailed aside, Agrias was kept on simply by Boco's determination. The chocobo had anticipated her, and was taking her there himself. Launched into the air as Boco hopped up to the embankment past the bridge, Agrias landed unsteadily, Boco supporting her back with his head as he made his own descent.  
  
Agrias didn't question it, but chose to engage the enemy knights. She was now between them and Ovelia.  
  
Surprised, she found that the only one actively fighting Ramza was Gafgarion. The two Hokuten knights with him seemed reluctant to engage the boy, instead focusing their attention on dealing with her.  
  
Leaving Ramza to his own fate against Gafgarion, Agrias took on her opponents with the bloodied Boco beside her. Alicia and Lavian were there to support him. . . she hoped.  
  
Delita had fought himself a foothold on the east bank. The three knights there attempted to close with him as he released the same torrent from the heavens with similar techniques to Agrias.  
  
Grimly, Agrias noted the abilities of Ovelia's kidnapper, filing them as a point of concern when she would kill him in turn. Channeling the bloodlust that flared within her, Agrias allowed her conscience to ebb, discarding it in the heat of battle.  
  
Forced back by the three knights, though Delita dashed one down to his death on the rocky stream below, he retreated back to the bridge, his plate mail broken, visible seams appearing in his gold-hued armor.  
  
Both Ramza and Gafgarion had taken damage. Gafgarion did not even bother with his Dark Sword abilities, forced to the rudimentary fundamentals of swordsmanship: kill him before he kills you. In the same manner as Rad, Ramza drove in towards him with a seemingly insane determination, refusing to give Gafgarion the room to perform anything special. Still, he took some hits as he pressed his attack, his bronze armor dented, pierced, and cracked. It was outrageous to the point that once Ramza had actually used his open left hand to palm Gafgarion's own sword across himself, and only that fact that the Dark Knight retreated into a run kept the swordfight into a brawl.  
  
"Delita!" Ramza yelled, "you're alive!" as he ran after Gafgarion, with Lavian moving up to support Agrias while Alicia tried to render medical aid to him.  
  
Delita shouted back as he fought one knight on the bridge, "Imagine meeting you here! Are your brothers sill running your life?" he quipped, seemingly jocular, his face a mask of vicious excitement.  
  
The sound of coherent dialogue over the battlefield blunted Agrias' concentration. The battle being fought sword to sword, neither side given any room, base instincts and tendencies were coming to the fore as the participants proved that they could not keep up with the tempo the battle demanded.  
  
"Who knows? They never tell me anything!" Ramza gasped out, continuing to pursue Gafgarion, who now waded back into the melee. "But, uh," Ramza grunted as Gafgarion pressed his own counter assault, driving his own assault to blunt Ramza's reckless offensive, "Delita, are you party to their plot?"  
  
As the three knights of the Atskascha Royal Family -The Order of St. Konoe- held their own against the two knights of the Hokuten on the west bank, Agrias felt anger sweep through her. (Damn him! He's not violating his words; but damn him nonetheless for making the attempt!). The three knights were finally reunited with their ward, and they were attempting to fulfill their duty. Ovelia had backed away into a nook of the embankment by the waterfall, shivering in her travel-dirtied white and red robes as she stood with her back to the damp stone cliff face, beginning to shiver, from both the shock of the battle being fought in front of her -for her, and the water that sprayed onto her.  
  
"Don't be foolish!" Delita cried out, turning around and breaking away from the other two Hokuten knights. The leading knight kept pace with him, refusing to allow Delita to sever the bridge and drop his partner down to the rocky stream below that had already claimed one comrade. "I'm here to save the princess!" he declared, "To protect her from those who are exploiting her!"  
  
Agrias allowed herself a moment to take a sideglance at Ovelia as her own opponent strafed to the left, tightening a spiral around her. She held her line, refusing to allow him through her towards her liege. Agrias realized that Ovelia was watching Delita. . .  
  
(There!) Agrias exulted, battering her opponent unconscious as they closed within the range of their own swords, smashing the pommel cap of her sword down on the knight's clavicle, causing him to flinch, and she continued to knout his bare forehead, causing him to collapse.  
  
Lavian had lost, and she lay on her side, hyperventilating as she examined the gash in her breastplate's side, beginning to panic. It was a pitched battle, and the knight that subdued her chose not to grant quarter and instead raised his left boot to smash down onto her exposed head.  
  
Only that Alicia had prepared another one of her own grenades and lobbed it at him, causing the knight, clad in his linen, leathers, and mithril, to burn. Having no other resort, the knight went towards the stream, but in doing so, he plowed through Alicia, dashing her in along with himself off the embankment. Agrias only gave a cursory glance over the embankment,  
  
Ovelia just looked on, watching as both ally and enemy fall, one by one, attrition, lethality and friction taking them all; all over her.  
  
Boco had done his best to participate in protecting Agrias, but he was helpless against the armored Hokuten, and the ground was too limited for him to serve as a platform. Still, he knelt by Lavian, sheltering the agonized knight under his wing, where he cast his own curative ability, healing herself and him. Settling to her knees, the fallen knight pointed over the embankment's lip and Boco followed, hopping down to the stream to find Alicia, dead or alive.  
  
Gafgarion now threw in his own words, forcing Ramza to back off, having wounded the younger mercenary by slashing a thin line down the boy's left forearm. "Don't lie to me!" he snarled, directing his anger at the one they had pursued for two days. "You were hired too, weren't you?" he tossed out, using this time to leech Ramza's health and infuse it to himself using the Night Sword technique. "You were hired to kidnap her for money!" he accused, Ramza's 'betrayal' and innocence feeding his anger, "Don't play dumb!"  
  
Both of Delita's opponents were across the bridge, and forced the knight back, bringing him ever closer to where Agrias screened Ovelia and the incapacitated Lavian. From the hostile glare Agrias directed at him, Delita expect little help unless he endangered the princess as he was doing so now by retreating. "No, I'm not like you. It's not for the money!" Delita threw back, having his own sword shattered by the Hokuten knight he attempted to bludgeon.  
  
Gafgarion laughed, pursuing Ramza down the embankment to where they were when the battle began. "Then who's getting in my way?" he cried out, caught up in his bloodlust as sought to cut Ramza down. "A kid who heard the plot and decided to save her for justice?" he mocked both young men. "Who hired you?" he challenged, saying his words to Ramza, but intending them for the kidnapper. "Who told you about the plan? Talk!" he demanded, as if demanding Ramza's surrender.  
  
"None of your business!" Delita cried, backpedaling as the two Hokuten knights closed on him.  
  
"What are you?" Ovelia called out to him, nervously. "Ally or enemy?" The only emotion that pierced the numbness that she felt was a point of distressed confusion.  
  
"Human, just like you!"  
  
Agrias debated when she would launch her own offensive, hoping to have the Hokuten finish off the kidnapper and in turn she would slay them. (Do as little work and accomplish as much as possible) she thought, pleased, though her conscience showed her own concern. Taking a moment to check on the status of the princess, Agrias saw a strange expression in her face. (Damn. . . no, of all things, no!) she raged, as she realized what she must do for her ward. Darting forward, she threw herself in twain the two Hokuten knights, who were closing slowly on Delita, expecting her to come in as she did.  
  
Taking up the slack, Lavian stood unsteadily, holding her sword in both hands, taking her senior's place.  
  
Ramza felt himself being pressured, unable to break away as Gafgarion continued to force him back, and feeling cornered, he reacted, meeting advance with his own rush. One more hit would subdue him. He had not taken enough physical damage, yet Gafgarion had sapped enough of his physical energy that Ramza knew that if there was another exchange, he would be the worst for it.  
  
The exchange occurred. Again, Ramza pawed Gafgarion's weapon across the Dark Knight and thrust in from a high angle with his own mithril sword. Gafgarion deflected the sword somewhat with his shield, but it still connected with his arm, forcing him to bend back as the blade became stuck in his pauldron, having pierced it and tearing into the muscles it protected. "Dammit!" he cried. It was then that he hurled his shield at Ramza, who was unable to dodge or to blunt the impact of the curved kite- shield, stunning him as the boy sought to cover himself in his daze. Being disarmed, having an arm disabled, he chose to escape, leaving the final two Hokuten knights to their fates.  
  
Ramza chose to let him go, unable to focus on anything outside of his immediate vicinity.  
  
Knowing there was no other option, Agrias and Delita allowed the last Hokuten knight to withdraw; his partner had been slain when Delita picked up a fallen sword from one of the dead Hokuten and closed in on him along with Agrias. Fighting a desperate man was folly, as he had everything to lose.  
  
The battle was over, and as soon as the last Hokuten fled after Gafgarion, Agrias slammed into Delita, bowling the wounded kidnapper over, disarming him and kicking his weapon away. Having had the wind knocked out of him, he lay there, back arched, struggling to breath. She stood over him, far enough away that he wouldn't be able to lash out at her. Then, she sheathed her weapon and walked away, towards Ovelia.  
  
Within her eyes was a challenge, a promise of a delayed reckoning, Ramza saw. Waving over at the two women, Ramza went over down the earthen incline down to the stream to look for survivors.  
  
Feeling torment, Agrias blocked Ovelia's way as the princess began to tentatively make her way towards her kidnapper. With a stern nod, Agrias expressed her opinion of the situation.  
  
No one dared question her authority. Not her subordinate, not her liege, and certainly not Delita, who lay there, still staring into the sky, trying to find his breath.  
  
*** To be continued ***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
I need to regroup and assess my writing again. I feel as if I'm slipping. The battle sequence was so off and rushed since I did not want to go into detail about it. Note, the emphasis of the story is CHARACTER INTERACTION not the battles.  
  
The Agrias 'wake' sequence was a favorite of mine in this chapter, since it was just plain introspection and observation. Some of her thoughts are revealed, and hey, the 'Boss Lady' needs some time to unwind somewhat.  
  
The turn-out rate of chapters might suffer since the steam is running out, since I do NOT like writing battle sequences since to do them properly would incur so much detail AND I am limited to the dialogue in the game, which is limited and AWKWARD at best:  
  
Come on, why would people TALK in a pitched battle?!  
  
Oh yes, I cut the battle scene short, since I only used about two- thirds of the full dialogue of the story.  
  
As to Alicia's grenades. . . think of them as Fire Balls. It makes sense since chemists throw concoctions, and I assume those Fire Balls are chemical mixtures in themselves (plus chemists ARE the prerequisite jobs for the Black Mage classes).  
  
The day isn't over yet, expect another chapter to handle that department. I cut it short now since the chapter was beginning to drag and was growing far too diluted (too much pointless text in proportion to actual story and detail).  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Reader's Response Corner***  
  
Um, thank you for all the support ^_^.  
  
I feel as if I'm struggling in several portions, and that might cause me to pause (not stop. . . no, its going to have to be a on-the-fly reformation) or slow down for a bit.  
  
I'm caught between making the story flow fast, or going into Oh-So- Good (!) detail. . . its been a compromise to this point, but I believe I need to get a solid doctrine down pretty soon.  
  
Covering Ramza's personality. Well, consider it, he's gone into hiding, he's questioning who he is, no damn wonder he's so contradicting and reluctant to share his inner views. Still, he's reaching out, to Agrias of all people. . .  
  
Don't consider Ramza and Agrias as respective Heroine and Anti-Hero figures. . . just remember Delita's best quote. They are human figures, and as such, I am trying to give them depth outside of the plot.  
  
On the bright side, Agrias still hasn't throttled him for being the way he is!  
  
Questions?  
  
Comments?  
  
Rants?  
  
Just float them on over.  
  
***Reader's Response Corner*** 


	6. 05 Solidarity

***Author's Notes***  
  
Fortunately, this section covers no battle-scenes (yay!). Covers the immediate aftermath of the Zirekile Falls battle.  
  
Still, Princess Ovelia has been recovered, the Hokuten are out to apprehend her, and Agrias is all but isolated. Ramza appears to support her, and she doesn't doubt it, but the pressure is bound to be overwhelming.  
  
I just noticed that I completely goofed on the numbering structure of the chapters . . . oops - THIS is Scene 05 . . .  
  
Expect a lot of introspection . . . what I believe I do best - Oh- so-good character self-analysis of themselves and their environment. Strange, a lot of the focus is on Agrias, but her own center of attention is not at herself.  
  
It's about time the story slowed down a bit for Agrias to go over some of her thoughts.  
  
Also, in case if you are wondering, the word "dame" is what I am using as the female equivalent of "sir."  
  
For example, since Lavian is a knight 'and' female, instead of going by 'sir Lavian', she will be referred to instead as 'dame Lavian' as her casual title.  
  
Also, format change . . . I messed up, I included the prologue as chapter 01, even if DID occur in the same timeframe as "Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient".  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-05 "Solidarity" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 05)  
  
***January 3rd, Year 2. Zirekile Falls***  
  
The setting had changed, and the field was theirs. The bodies of the dead Hokuten were grouped together, shrouded by the dirtied white traveling mantles they wore. Below, under the bridge, was Alicia and Lavian, the former changing into a set of dry clothing. Both knights had come away with no permanent injuries, though they knew the strain of their bruises would multiply the longer they went without rest; something they knew they would not receive.  
  
Above, on the west embankment, stood Ramza, and Ovelia was beside Agrias. The three of them were seeing the kidnapper-turned-rescuer -or so he claimed- off, where he would continue to go back east, to Goltana, while the only avenue left for the princess, the knights, and Ramza was to the south.  
  
Turning his head, gazing at the trio tiredly, Delita addressed Ramza, snubbing Agrias. "Leave the princess with me," he told them. "It's better for her," he explained.  
  
Ramza's quick reply forestalled Agrias' outburst. "Delita," he addressed his former friend in a voice that was far too polite, "what are you scheming?"  
  
"Scheming?" Delita repeated, "don't be foolish. I'm telling the truth. Think about it," he told them, continuing to stand on the ladder- bridge. "Where would you take her after making an enemy of the Hokuten?" he said, asking another big question they had yet to tackle. Not giving them the time to answer, he continued on. "Crack Hokuten troops will come looking for you any time now. Just where the hell do you plan to escape to?" he put bluntly.  
  
Ramza choked, wanting to look back towards Agrias for support. "W, well, I . . . "  
  
Delita cut him off. "Think carefully. The princess knows this was Prince Larg's plan." As he said that, Agrias' interests grew as her thoughts diverted to what he had done with the princess during her period of captivity. "The royal family is not on your side," Delita revealed. "So what about Goltana?" he asked, bringing up his lord. "No," Delita said, grunting, "he'd execute you just to clear himself."  
  
In turn, Agrias interposed herself between Delita and Ovelia's line of sight, as if to sever the influence the captor had on the captivated. "What would you do?" she asked doubtfully in return, in a stern manner.  
  
"I'd do what you can't do," Delita replied in a confident manner, calm, composed, and serious.  
  
"What do you mean?" Ramza asked, not wanting Agrias to unleash her pent-up anger on Delita.  
  
"I can't tell you . . . " Delita said back, shrugging. Seeing that there was little point to continue, he began to walk away. "I'll leave the princess with you a while longer." Again, his statement sparked Agrias' ire.  
  
"Delita," Ramza called out as his friend was walking away, "I'm glad I could see you again."  
  
Delita stopped, but did not face him. "Teta saved me . . . " he said, his voice somewhere else.  
  
"What?" Ramza asked, feeling cold.  
  
"Teta saved me back then . . . " Delita said again, as if repetition would clarify the matter.  
  
" . . . " Ramza just stared.  
  
Moving asides Agrias, Ovelia placed herself ahead of her guardian and called out, "Thank you, Delita."  
  
Agrias felt another point of frustration manifest within her, and suddenly, the option of leaving the kidnapper alive seemed very foolish to her, even if he supposedly was on their side.  
  
Delita did not address the princess, another point that Agrias noted. "See you again, Ramza."  
  
Pointedly, Agrias ignored his departure, refusing to allow herself to look after the young man, to deny him that honor. Pushing her prejudice -however justified- aside, she asked Ramza a critical question. "Ramza, thanks for your support." Agrias knew it sounded trite and callous, but what more could be said? "But . . . " she asked of him, "are you sure you want to make the Hokuten an enemy?"  
  
Turning to face her, the resolute expression on Ramza's face was one that cheered her. The smile, grim and determined as it was, proved to be infectious, and Agrias wondered why she mirrored him. "Don't worry," he told her. "I've already decided." There was hope in his eyes, she saw, and she hoped that maybe it was of some substance. "The question is," he posed, "now what should we do?" He shrugged. "Like Delita said, nobody will help us . . . "  
  
Agrias was glad to challenge his statement, which was Delita's statement after all. "We can ask Cardinal Draclau for help . . . " she told him, mentioning the lord of the province of Lionel. "Glabados church has jurisdiction over Lionel," she pointed out, "they might be able to help," she continued.  
  
Ramza nodded. "Hokuten have to be careful what they do in Lionel . . . let's go," he told her. "Its the only place for us."  
  
Eager, Agrias nodded, wondering why she valued his opinion so, as if he was her superior, or at the very least, a fellow commander.  
  
Ovelia just watched the two warriors converse, her interest in the 'dashing' kidnapper taking second place as she wondered what Agrias had to do with the mercenary, one who she had only seen once before: right before the kidnapping just two days ago. His link to Delita intrigued her by relation, yet not as much as to what she wondered Agrias thought of him.  
  
***  
  
Ramza, Agrias, Ovelia, and the knights were on the road again. On Boco Ovelia rode, whilst Agrias led the chocobo willingly by the spare set of reins she placed on him. Up ahead, Ramza was the vanguard, leading the baggage chocobo. Bringing up the rear was Alicia and Lavian, tired, but able.  
  
Examining the maps left behind, Ramza had taken it upon himself to be the navigator, sharing Agrias' responsibilities in leading the group, allowing the woman to focus more attention on her principal. Alicia and Lavian were glad for it, not just because it meant less work for them, but because they knew 'Boss Lady' needed all the assistance she could get.  
  
Furtively, Agrias kept on looking forwards at the boy leading them, and wondered what future the boy had, along with her own future, which was bound to Princess Ovelia. She knew that she should establish her authority again, but Ramza's enthusiasm was something she needed. Being strong was one thing, but being strong alone? Alicia and Lavian she relied on for support, but they were her subordinates; she was to lead them, not the other way around.  
  
In the outsider, she saw many things; many, many things, and she had trouble from keeping her thoughts, motives, and wishes from overlapping as she juggled points of interests about her, as well as having to keep a wary eye on their surroundings.  
  
Their first objective was to make it into Lionel itself, and as soon as they made it out of the Zirekile area, then they were within that province. However, it was still tomorrow that they would reach the first large population center: Zaland Fort City. It would be imprudent to march through the night, and none of them had the energy left.  
  
Together Agrias and Ramza kept their concern between themselves; both knew the others' concerns as it pertained to their mission.  
  
The Hokuten would be in pursuit, but it would be some time before they could come for them in force, maybe several days or a week; by then they would already be safe under the protection of the Cardinal, and by extension, the church, who would support the princess.  
  
The matter of creating the excuse for the princess' disappearance would be a minor affair, and Agrias hoped that she could rely on the cardinal to accommodate their alibi; an unofficial state visit by the princess at the cardinal's request.  
  
If the Hokuten already had men prepared, well then, it was a moot point to think about it since they would already be dead. For now, their concern was simply to make it into Lionel, file the necessary paperwork that would save their lives, and send the petition to the cardinal, all the while making their way to his capital, Lionel Castle, where they would be safest.  
  
Then, maybe then, they could relax, but only for a moment, Agrias knew, as the political implications of this was nothing short of a coup d'etat or in other words: civil war.  
  
***  
  
Their campsite was still at high elevation, but the air was still thick here, if not chillier. They would follow this mountain trail all the way down into Lionel. For now, rest was required.  
  
Alicia and Lavian immediately fell asleep, having only the time to shuck their protective overclothing, and dropped to the ground, where Agrias -and with her permission- Ramza prepared beddings for them and tucked them in. They already had exhausted knights; they did not want exhausted knights with illnesses.  
  
Agrias too had discarded her armor at Ovelia's insistence, and the Holy Knight fussed over her ward. Ramza said nothing, finding the site curious considering the woman's previous conduct, attitude, and profession. Plus, he did not want to end the source of his interest and to some extent: amusement. Agrias acted effeminate enough for him that he could tell she was a woman, but this side of her Ramza did not see. (Dichotomy?) he asked himself as he observed, finding him more and more fascinated.  
  
Ramza, Alicia, and Lavian had eaten their food while on the move, cold, yet it still filled their stomachs. However, Ovelia had not yet eaten a meal, and neither had Agrias, Ramza noticed. Ramza conducted himself as well he could towards a princess, but practicality demanded it of him to place function over protocol. He was polite, but he was also isolated from her, as if Agrias had placed up a personal barrier around her ward.  
  
Agrias was cooking. Well, warming up the food, using flat stones she found and rinsed with the replenished drinking water from Zirekile Falls, and heating those stones. It wasn't anything fancy, but food was food, and even better: it was warm.  
  
Embarrassed, Agrias presented the groups' heated food supply to the princess, who sharing some of her knight's uneasiness, tentatively took a hunk of bread into her arms and began to nibble. Feeling that Agrias was coming down on herself inside, Ramza attempted his own rescue. "May I?" he asked the princess and Agrias.  
  
Surprised, Agrias just nodded, apology in her eyes for having to ignore him.  
  
"Oh . . . " Ovelia said, before recovering herself. "Please, please do, Mr. Ruglia," she addressed him.  
  
Ramza blinked at the use of the name, before he remembered what he wanted to do. Ignoring the bread, he selected a piece of flesh, carefully picking it up with both hands. Reclining on the grass on his side, Ramza knew he was bordering on affronting towards the princess, and Agrias looked at him. Bringing it up to his maw, Ramza put the salted meat down a little and addressed the princess. "Pardon my manners, but we do not have the luxuries . . . " he began, hoping Agrias would get the point and forget being shamed by something she could not control.  
  
"I understand," Ovelia said, laughing softly. "You're a knight, aren't you?" she said jovially, being playful. "Noble in more ways than one, yes?"  
  
Ramza was surprised by his success, and he nodded. Indicating Agrias, he spoke. "I came to the rescue of a good friend who was torturing herself over something insignificant."  
  
"Friend?" Ovelia said softly, "yes, I suppose its what friends do. Your gallantry, however unusual," she pointed out in a non-scolding manner," is a very appealing trait in you."  
  
As Ramza remained speechless, saying nothing, Ovelia continued, addressing Agrias in turn. "Now, dame Agrias, it is your turn to come to the aid of our humble 'knight'."  
  
Ramza found himself blushing as Agrias laughed, and he smiled as he saw the relaxed expression in her face. (There's wisdom in being happy,) he thought, putting thoughts of tomorrow and what may come to where they belonged, to where he could contemplate them, but not worry about them.  
  
Focusing his attention to the two young women in front of him, Ramza gestured down to the heated slab of rock. "If you would join us?"  
  
Reprieved, Agrias joined them after showing some hesitation at the prospect of dining in such a primitive manner with her princess. Still, she was smiling, and Ramza only hoped that it was in happiness, even it did come from relief, or at his own expense.  
  
The night continued on, and Ovelia watched her companions, having thoughts of her own. She would've admitted to missing the previous days' company, but only after they forced the confession out of her. Still, in Ramza and Agrias' company, even with her all-too-faithful knight almost overbearing in her concern, Ovelia had the inkling that she was a third leg. Feeling sad at intruding what she thought might be between the two, Ovelia did what she could to steer the night's entertainment around the cooking fire around the two, using her authority somewhat to get the two to loosen up and talk about themselves. Ovelia mused, envying, and worrying for the two. (For once, I think I am using my authority to do good.)  
  
***  
  
Agrias insisted on keeping the watch, saying that of all of them -well, Alicia and Lavian weren't awake to argue, and her word would've overridden theirs, even if it was underhanded, she was the one with the most energy remaining, which said little, as her body was still numb from sleep deprivation. The haze would come again, and this time, it would be insistent, disgruntled, and all the harder to weather through.  
  
Alicia and Lavian came away from the battle with their share of aches and pains, the most of the group's in fact. Everyone had suffered minor cuts, except for Boco and obviously Ovelia. Those had been quickly cleaned and bandaged; infection was a method of dying that was darkly humorous in nature.  
  
Boco was alert too, and the chocobo roosted where he lay, near the campfire, near the princess, as if to help keep her safe. But, it would be irresponsible to leave a chocobo to stand guard. So, there Agrias reclined, sitting up against a rock, half-paranoid with the thought that someone would sneak up on her where she was using the large stone as cover. Still, to stay near the campfire served no purpose as it would take away all of her night vision, which would've been counterproductive.  
  
Thankfully, Ramza had understood her sentiments and he slept away from Ovelia, by himself, in fact, right next to the stone she had selected as her picket post. Agrias felt that she was contradicting herself, being a hypocrite. Here, the boy, though obviously a noble from Gallione, affiliated, or once was affiliated with the Hokuten knights, the very same knight order with the intentions of kidnapping -killing- the princess. Still, his loyalty was to . . . ( . . . his loyalty was to?) Agrias asked herself. (He owes more allegiance to what he once was than to Princess Ovelia,) Agrias acknowledged. (His allegiance . . . no, his loyalty?) she pondered, (is to me . . . isn't it.) Feeling confused, Agrias finally decided to explore this line of thought, determined to either explore it, or to lose her sanity in trying, considering herself skilled enough as a soldier -and as a woman- to multi-task.  
  
Half-heartedly, Agrias wondered how much more clear everything would've been had Ramza simply been in it for the revenue, which was no longer in coming, unless he received Gafgarion and Rad's payment as well from the Order of St. Konoe, a concession Agrias would damn well pursue to reward him, as well as doing her best to ensure that he received a commission in another group, one different from the Hokuten. Agrias thought of herself as a good judge of other people, well, once she was forced to spend time with them at least, she admitted. The fact that he was in this with her because of his conscience bothered Agrias.  
  
On one hand, she knew him to be sincere, at least in his support, but on the other, she felt doubtful of him, having enough past experience with other zealots in the past. Ramza may not be a part of the clergy or its martial sects, but damned, Agrias concluded ironically, if he did not fit the mental type. The difference was he did not know it. As a noble, Ramza did have a prime chance to enter the clergy, but since Agrias knew he was of the Hokuten, it was obvious that any interest in the church would've been curbed in him.  
  
She agreed with his family -whoever they were- that he would've been wasted as a priest. A fine one, but the fine ones were ordinary, being able to settle problems before they developed into crises, and in such amalgamations of danger and opportunity did individuals distinguish themselves, well, augmented their fame - Agrias also bitterly acknowledged that family prestige had much to do with a person's fate.  
  
After all, she was the guardian -she volunteered, of course- of Princess Ovelia, a caged bird of a girl and of a monarch. Granted, of all the trapped people in Ivalice she was at the top, yet it was still imprisonment.  
  
(Hm, if Ramza never tells me what family he came from, I'll never ask, so long as he keep the specters from his past at bay,) Agrias resolved, accepting that the boy just had so many things to hide. However, like the Delita Pursuit, it was links to his past that might prove critical to them, but Agrias did not know how, and she did not want to strain any potential relatio-Agrias' caravan of thought went into a ditch. She did not want to sever any bonds they may have made to each other.  
  
In fact, Agrias admitted, she would indeed look forward to serving with him sometime in the future. It was a nice thought to entertain as it promised so many benefits to her, something she had not looked forward to since word got out that the war was ending, which was a bittersweet event at best, something which she was not satisfied with, but still grateful that that particular ordeal had ended, only do discover that Ivalice was in danger once more . . . from within.  
  
"Out one pot into another?" Ramza asked her softly, startling her.  
  
Settling back down, Agrias turned to look at him again, unable to speak. (How can he do that?!) her mind raged, her heartbeat suddenly shifting from a slow lethargic rhythm to a frantic metronome. The implication of what Ramza was asking confused her. (He's not reading your mind . . . ) Agrias told to herself, beginning to create a mantra, (he can't hear your thoughts . . . ) Agrias opened her mouth to speak and to question him just 'what' he was implying, if anything. "E-eh . . . hrn . . . "  
  
"First Goltana, now Larg," he specified, giving her a soft, and tired smile that one possessed in the morning. Yawning, he smiled apologetically.  
  
Agrias felt frustration rising with as again, aspects of her personality conflicted. She knew she shouldn't be angry with him, but the way that some part of her just found his appearance, presence, and even his words soothing aggravated her. It was unnatural, something which Agrias thought she should not feel. "Amongst other things . . . " she let out softly.  
  
"Agrias," he asked her gently, his voice still soft and quiet from his slumber, a little slurred as well, "are you exhausted?"  
  
"Physically," she told him, "I'm just beginning to adjust to this pace. Mentally . . . this is almost too much," she allowed herself to reveal, knowing that she was admitting things that an officer of her rank and responsibility should never reveal to her subordinates; to show that their leader was not confident in them or their situation. But, Ramza wasn't her subordinate, nor was he her superior, or equal even. (A peer?) Agrias wondered, before dismissing her idea, (A friend? Yes . . . but, what kind of friend . . . ) "When soldiers dabble foolishly in politics . . . "  
  
Ramza shook his head. "Soldiers know better . . . it's the nobles who throw their retainers into the meat-grinder."  
  
"True enough," Agrias admitted with gallows humor. "Few of them make decent enough officers." She wasn't pleased to see Ramza visibly flinch at that remark. (He's the one who said it first . . . ) "For the most part, the only tactic they specialize in is the glorious charge forwards . . . "  
  
"Right into the killing fields . . . " Ramza concurred. "I never experienced it, but my 'tour of duty'," he quipped almost with sarcasm, "was different."  
  
"You've mentioned, alluded to at least, to being a commander before, Ramza. What kind of leader were you?" she asked him seriously, but also grateful that she was steering the conversation away from her.  
  
"I wouldn't know," Ramza admitted. "Only the other cadets would." He continued on to give her a more substantial answer as he gave it some thought. "I did what I could, but I did not devote myself to them. To me, the objective was key, as was honor . . . "  
  
"The cornerstone of the Hokuten, as if that explained all the glory they reaped." Agrias could not keep the cynicism out of her tone. "Personally, you," she addressed him as one of the Hokuten unwittingly, "you are good warriors. A decent officer corps, or there 'was'," she emphasized, "a decent officer corps, and willing volunteers from hereditary family lines that somehow, somehow kept their edge through the generations."  
  
"War would do that," Ramza pointed out.  
  
Agrias had an angry remark on the tip of her tongue, but she wondered why that was so. So, she curbed her statement of telling him that the Fifty Years' War was the Hokuten's war, the war in which they came to prominence, in the good times and the bad. "It would do that, if it didn't kill off the bloodlines first," she pointed out, and changing the subject, she asked him a question that bothered her. "Those Hokuten that we fought," she told him, "they seemed reluctant to fight you . . . " she let the statement drag before she continued. "But, were you reluctant to engage them?"  
  
Ramza yawned, and Agrias wondered if that was uneasiness or offense. "I wouldn't know. Former comrades or not, in that situation, the only thing the Hokuten and I shared were the heritage, little more."  
  
"I did not mean to question your loyalty," Agrias told him. The small amount of hurt she saw in him stung her in return. "I'm-" she began to apologize, before she caught herself again. "That was uncalled for, I should not have said that to you."  
  
"You were justified in what you wanted to know of me," Ramza told her gently, tilting his head upwards to continue looking into her eyes after she had bowed her head.  
  
Agrias did not like the phrasing of those words. "It was more of an accusation," she elaborated, "and you're not making me feel any better."  
  
"It only hurts if you meant it," he told her. "Otherwise, its nothing to me . . . " He rose, and he approached her with his own blanket. Nervously, Agrias backed as she sat up against the rock she had her back to. When he kneeled, she was caught off guard, and she almost lost herself as she stared into his eyes, part of her angry at what she thought he might be doing to her, but this time, her alarms were half-hearted and Agrias felt tired, no, resigned, she noticed. Relinquishing the inexplicable -or that which she did not want to admit to herself- Agrias let Ramza do what he would.  
  
Agrias nodded in response to his words, resignedly giving him her sheathed sword, feeling as if she had just surrendered something of herself to him as he disarmed her as she was willing.  
  
Somehow, in his eyes, she saw something she had hoped and despaired within herself she should not recognize, in anyone but him. She spotted the emotion she associated with familiarity, affinity, and loyalty: it was care.  
  
"I . . . " she told him, her slow voice coming from the fatigue that she was now allowing herself to relieve in rest, "I trust you, I trust you Ramza . . . "  
  
"I trust you too, duty, conscience, truth, and reality," he cooed to her, as he picked her up gently, having trouble as he was kneeling to do so and Agrias realized just how frail he was. She dismissed the trill of fear she felt not from feeling as if he might drop her, but from surrendering control to him, to allow him to have power over her. The catharsis that she felt added to her fatigue, and she let herself float, hoping to stay at the surface of awareness long enough for her to simply enjoy the moment. As he shakily placed her down, Agrias almost purred, wiggling a bit so as to let Ramza remove his hands from beneath her.  
  
Agrias absorbed his words, and the statement meant only for her, to seep into her consciousness, the last things in her awareness that she was conscious of. She let out a small noise, not quite a whimper, as Ramza began to move his face out of her blurring field of vision, and he remained there, being the last thing she saw that night, as his face blended into the night, and the night blended into unconsciousness.  
  
***  
  
Predictably, Agrias woke early, her body clock already adjusted, well wound-up. It could not have been more than three hours that she slept, and again she woke up to the site of the sun not yet risen, but the ginger and vermillion haze in the distance heralded its arrival. Somehow, Agrias found her current set of beddings very comfortable. Then she realized something; it wasn't the 'fresh morning air' that she was inhaling, but someone else's scent.  
  
(Mm . . . ) Agrias found herself thinking, (these are nice,) she allowed herself to ponder as her mind and body were struggling to catch up with soul in awakening. "Ramza," she recognized, remembering whom the scent reminded her of.  
  
"Not quite the satiated moan of one basking in the afterglow that is ecstasy, but she did just wake up," a voice told her. Though the vocabulary was formal, the voice itself was not. Alicia gave a small sigh, bemused.  
  
Already her ears were read as Agrias realized the implication of Alicia's statement.  
  
"Leave her be, don't take away what peace she has found," Lavian remonstrated her fellow knight. But, in Lavian's eyes and uncomfortable posture, Agrias could read the very same thoughts floating through her subordinate's mind.  
  
"A little late," Agrias told them both, allowing the embarrassment to fade, trying to cling to whatever 'peace' she had found, and finding it slipping away all the faster.  
  
"Evanescence?" Ramza told her, and again Agrias jumped, though she was still tucked inside Ramza's beddings.  
  
Summoning all the patience she had within her, Agrias allowed herself to ignore all three of her unwitting tormentors and tried to remember what she should do. "Zaland Fort City?" she remarked.  
  
"According to the map, its less than a day's march from here," Ramza told her. "We should arrive there past noon with more than enough time to contact the local administration and send out the call for help."  
  
Though it was supposed to be her job to say such things, Agrias was grateful for Ramza's informing, and after all, she had asked for it, hadn't she?  
  
A point of interest that had slipped her mind, Agrias suddenly barked out, "The princess?!"  
  
"Be more concerned for yourself, dame Agrias," Ovelia told her, walking towards the knight. "I am fine, Alicia and Lavian has tended to me as your Ramza has tended to you."  
  
Not knowing how to take the princess' words, Agrias just nodded, shifting to a kneeling position before Ovelia before taking to her feet. Clumsily, she held Ramza's beddings in her hand, and thrust it out at him awkwardly. "I . . . I thank you," she told him.  
  
Ramza just nodded, giving her a small smile as with a small nod he excused himself from them and went off towards the baggage chocobo to pack. It was then that she noticed that everyone else was already attired, Lavian in her armor, Alicia in her reinforced clothing augmented with toughened leather, and Ovelia in another set of robes, and the bulk underneath them alluded to armor beneath.  
  
"We are ready to depart at your leisure," Ovelia told Agrias. "No hurries, yes? Mr. Ruglia told me our pace can be relaxed."  
  
Agrias found herself nodding along, feeling foolish as Ovelia laughed gently, knowing that her princess was merely attempting to make her feel better. "Have you eaten milady?"  
  
"My fill and more," Ovelia replied with a wink and a smile. "We left you some warmed food, but I am afraid you will insist eating on the move," and her tone grew stern for a moment, "you will eat, even when you are by my side protecting me," Ovelia emphasized, knowing that her subject would forget all about the camaraderie of the night before around that cooking fire, and fall back on dutiful self-denial, be it in food . . . or other departments, Ovelia noted.  
  
"We leave as soon as I am prepared then," Agrias announced, confidence and authority returning to her voice -just as she liked it- as she addressed them all, especially her two subordinates. Taking their cues, Alicia and Lavian picked up Agrias' pieces of armor as well as her viridian wizard's robe.  
  
She felt none of the tense, yet not unpleasant feeling she had just two mornings ago, when only Ramza was available to help her put her armor on. Yet, as Alicia and Lavian's familiar touches began to equip her, Agrias allowed that thought to drop, remembering what Ramza had said to her just after she awoke and she had ignored; he had repeated her favorite, despised, self-definitive word: "Evanescence," she mouthed, " . . . yes . . . such a sad word indeed."  
  
Ovelia just watched her knight's faraway gaze as she pretended to pay attention to Ramza preparing the two chocobos for the resumption of the journey. She knew that she was partly responsible for the way Agrias acted, and she agreed with the way that the Holy Knight carried herself -as was proper. But, Ovelia also knew that Agrias needed to relax, and she found that amusing, coming from a princess like herself, who of all people should have the most burden within to bear. The Order of St. Konoe did not dictate personal suffering, but self-control. Ovelia wondered which side of the line Agrias danced upon, and she also wondered how it would affect her future.  
  
Just as Agrias sympathized with her plight, trapped as a princess, sent away into a monastery for safety in reclusion, Ovelia sympathized with Agrias for adhering to the iron call of duty.  
  
Then, there was this Ramza boy, linked to 'Delita' who had captured her fascination, and in turn captured Agrias' attention. Just as Agrias was familiar with her thoughts, her problems, and her needs, Ovelia was familiar with Agrias' own feelings, views, and wants. Ovelia found it darkly humorous: only when one is far away do they see the problem as a whole, for when you are in the middle of it all, you only see the chaos around you.  
  
(To turn the looking glass unto yourself . . . ) Ovelia thought, (if only it were so easy.)  
  
***  
  
Several hours into the journey, the only worry the group had was of tedium getting to them more than the Hokuten bound to be in pursuit. Ovelia rode upon Boco, who was visibly uncomfortable under the silken blanket Agrias had harnessed onto him as a makeshift saddle, and Ovelia sat upon him with her legs off to his right, not straddling him as was more practical. Still, the human was considerably lighter than what the baggage chocobo was lugging.  
  
"Same ruse again?" Ramza brought up. "The cloaked principal?"  
  
Agrias nodded. "We're not traveling under the crest of the Atskascha, so we have to be incognito. As it is, we're too small to be a convincing Royal party."  
  
Ramza let the subject go, unwilling to go into further detail, which would serve only to aggravate Agrias in front of the princess. It was the same common sense one displayed for not revealing embarrassing secrets of a family member when their friends were around.  
  
It was the very same reason he dared not speak directly to the princess about other matters, such as the rift between Druksmald Goltana and Bestrada Larg caused by her father's -King Denamunda- death.  
  
While status did not seem to matter in this forum, in their situation, Ramza adhered to his noble protocol. Bending it to come to the aid of Agrias was one thing, but quite another in fact to irk his pragmatic companion who concerned him so.  
  
"Ramza?" Lavian inquired, addressing him as the group's new navigator, "what do the maps say about this region?"  
  
"Bandits?" Ramza asked rhetorically. "Hardly none, Lionel has the lowest crime rates of all Ivalice."  
  
Agrias nodded confidently. "The Cardinal-cum-Duke Draclau is a good man. His background with the church gives him a sense of empathy and accommodation towards the peasantry that borders on reverence."  
  
"I have never met him," Ovelia remarked, and everyone's attention went to her, the query about regional information discarded. "However, he has always expressed his support of my family, even though he hasn't been able to leave his duties in Lionel to visit Lesalia."  
  
"He sounds dangerous," Alicia quipped, before realizing in who's presence she made her statement. "Erm . . . uh . . . "  
  
Lavian came to her assistance. "She meant to say that a man with both power and adoration of all," she emphasized, "his subjects is a very powerful entity."  
  
Ovelia nodded and took this in even as Agrias couldn't help but give Alicia a subtle look of disapproval. It was the subtly of the act that gave it away. "Please, dame Alicia," Ovelia began in a calming tone, "I know none of you will take me seriously when I tell you to do away with the codes of conduct as it pertains to royalty, but do not be afraid of offending me."  
  
Ramza was the one who stepped in, though he still felt almost as constrained as the knights were. "That would be for the best milady. In order to maintain our cover-"  
  
"Yes, yes, I understand," Ovelia interrupted him, seeing where Ramza would begin to stutter and repeat himself. Ovelia told herself not to feel bad for any of them, even when it was she who was the core of all this turmoil. "Mr. Ruglia," she addressed the only male in the group, the only outsider, "what do the reports say about Lionel?" Ovelia did show some genuine interest, and learning about Ivalice's provinces from a source that was meant to be practical -military intelligence, would be a welcome distraction. (So much trouble for such a simple remark . . . )  
  
***  
  
Noon was yet to come, and the walled-in fortress-city of Zaland had been visible to them for hours, raised hills and ridges. The sun was proving to be oppressive, and coming to an agreement, Ovelia asked if they could take a small break.  
  
Fatigue finally catching up with them, Agrias and Ramza agreed to stop their square column as they approached a roadside farm; they were looking forward to spend the sunniest hours in the shade. Leaving Agrias and the knights behind to watch over the princess, Ramza walked into the small dirt path, plain but beaten-down to a stone-like consistency, towards the house.  
  
Stopping before the house -made of the very stones that all farms churned up over time and roofed with fresh thatch, Ramza hailed the owners. Coming out of a shed that was a miniature of the house, a man in middle age sauntered forth and spoke back. "Lad, if those women want my hospitality, then it is theirs to have. But, it is only good manners to greet your host yourself.  
  
Before Ramza could turn around and gesture to the group to come in -a task that Agrias might oppose before buckling, the man cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, and Ramza could see the man taking in Agrias' reactions as the knight instantly became alert, an interesting assessment from that distance.  
  
Ramza could see the white-robed figure that was Ovelia lean down towards Agrias, and Agrias began to move, the group in tow, Lavian leading Boco, and Alicia leading the nameless baggage chocobo. For herself, Agrias held the lead, calm as she strode formally to greet the farmer.  
  
The man himself was not imposing, but he had an air of confidence around him. His belly protruded slightly, but his arms and face were a deep shade of brown, past being bronzed by the sun. The man was salted, yet not grizzled. Wearing the plainclothes of a farmer, function followed form, if the smudge marks, dust streaks, and grass stains were anything to go by. Even his hair, maybe once blond, was roasted into an unnatural shade of tan.  
  
What surprised Ramza was when this man greeted Agrias without so much as a bow or a curt nod of the head. Yet, there was no disrespect, as the man simply said his 'hello' and extended his hand in greeting. Feeling awkward, Agrias shook the man's hand through her own heavy leather gloves.  
  
Something that Ramza took notice of was that the man asked for no names, nor gave his. With a simple gesture, the man beckoned them to step into his humble home as he called out. "Simmons, come yonder."  
  
Startling Alicia, a boy who had not yet come of age approached them.  
  
"Pardon ma'am," he drawled out, his voice still awkward, obvious that the boy as just beginning his maturity. His awkward gait as he ambled towards them was clear sign too. Assuming that the boy was the man's son, he bore little resemblance to him, being slimmer. But then again, few people looked like their older parents until they became older themselves.  
  
Ramza reached Ovelia first as Agrias just gawked at the awkward boy, and looked back and forth between the father, something which all the females in the group did. Taking Boco by the reins, Ramza extended his free hand towards Ovelia, who upon blinking, took it awkwardly; Boco kneeled to upstage Ramza as Ovelia simply stood up and released Ramza's clasp after a polite nod. The chocobo -of course, received a fawning caress from Ovelia.  
  
Giving Ramza a half-sincere glare at the complications he unwillingly brought into her life, and knowing it wasn't his fault just aggravated her own sore points, Agrias followed Ovelia into the house.  
  
Ovelia stopped to address the man. "Thank you sir, for assisting us."  
  
"Without kindness and respect milady," he replied in turn, "where would all of us be?"  
  
*** To be continued ***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Asides from Ovelia tossing in her own two cents, the core of this chapter centered around Agrias and her thoughts, as well as her non- official interactions with Ramza. This is the first time Agrias could settle down and try to confront some of her own concerns. Ovelia has been recovered, and now, a whole new set of issues has arisen. Right then, she just wanted to contemplate her personal life.  
  
She's so wound up that the strain is going to break her, and she's going to be stretched past the point where she can't recover. Keep this in mind: Agrias is not giving herself to Ramza . . . oh no. She TRUSTS Ramza to do what he and to an extent (but won't admit it) she feels is right (and wants -I've been dropping hints left and right). Not proper -screw protocol between the two of them. Note the thing unsaid: Agrias trusted Ramza with Ovelia when he put her to sleep, if just for a few hours.  
  
In a nutshell, the significance of the scenes that center around Agrias and Ramza help develop a bond between them. It already exists, and it grows more entwined as more links develop and coil around each other. However, it is up to the two to acknowledge it and act on it. Not all courage applies to the sword.  
  
Meaning, everyone else (Ovelia is pretty much giving it her personal approval, not to mention Alicia and Lavian's attempts of trying to set up the Wuss with Boss Lady) sees it but them, but deep down, they do, but they REFUSE to acknowledge it. Sorry for the lack of tact, but I wanted to get that point out.  
  
Bluntly, don't expect WAFF or LEMON-style material . . . not for some time to come. If it comes off as WAFF, hey, awesome, but otherwise, I just want the two to bond, to develop together, and ultimately, admit the truth.  
  
If that happens to be WAFF . . . well, have I been confused!  
  
The two need each other, if for just Agrias to keep Ramza's heritage from killing him, and Ramza to make sure Agrias' duties don't destroy her.  
  
I'm not denying that a relationship is forming between the two, but come on: They have known each other for three days! The author can only delude himself so much . . .  
  
That's enough of me giving away any future plot!  
  
Ramza should be the fish being grilled come next chapter. Its only fair . . .  
The stop at the farmhouse? It's a small fork in the road, and frankly, they need some warm food and small break.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Reader's Response Corner***  
  
Again, thanks people for the support and the feedback. Still, I would like to know more from your reactions. Things like what am I doing right with the story, what am I doing wrong, yatta yatta . . .  
  
Particularly, in this chapter, I want to know what you people think of Agrias, her thoughts, her actions, and even who she is.  
  
Likewise, it'd be interesting to see your interpretation of Ramza, the anti-hero figure who seems just a little too good to be true.  
  
Most of all, what do you think of the bonds forming between Ramza and Agrias? Past, present, and future, just as the story will cover.  
  
As to me even contemplating of taking this to Squaresoft . . . wow, I am truly flattered, and is the story really that good?! Yet, this will remain a project of mine, one that I hope to write to completion (oh man, the pain associated with the scope of the project . . . the pain!), and I hope that the story (characters) evolves as well.  
  
***Reader's Response Corner*** 


	7. 06 Turmoil

*** Author's Notes***  
  
I'm beginning to take night school, so the level of quality is going to go down almost proportionately with the speed of turnout. Meaning, expect the story begin to stutter and get longer in-between updates for the next few months.  
  
Revision: Mainly format, but some text has been altered.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-06 "Turmoil" v.1.1 (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 06)  
  
***  
  
The stop was truly insignificant. Agrias couldn't relax as she was concerned about the princess' security, right up until Ovelia herself ordered her to sit down and eat with everyone. The dining table was too small, so the farmer invited them onto his porch. Everyone on the farm took a break from the midday sun.  
  
The knights had to remove their gloves in order to eat properly, and Alicia and Lavian sat next to each other on the left side of the porch, eagerly taking advantage of the reprieve, quickly finishing the hearty -though humble, meal of soup and bread.  
  
Agrias allowed herself to relax, to enjoy the meal. Not because she was being lax in her duty, but even she had to admit that these farmers were all but giving their house over to them, and if anything, being in their hospitality meant they were under their protection, which was a thought that almost made her snort as she sampled her own meal -even as she noticed an escudo hung on the wall. Truth be told, she was grateful that they stopped. The heat in Lionel would've been oppressive in their armor and protective clothing, but it also suited the few fertile patches of land here. (To think, Goland's always frozen over, and that's less than a week's march away,) Agrias thought.  
  
(Plus,) she admitted, (it is a hot meal). Allowing Ovelia some of her own personal space -as much as a guard could allow, Agrias contented to let the princess learn to eat soup in the peasantry fashion. Imitating Ramza, whom Ovelia invited to sit over by the two of them, Ovelia took a slice of the loaf she was given and dipped it into the lentil soup, squeezing the bread lightly so that the soup would be soaked in when she loosened her grip.  
  
The grace at which Ovelia tried to eat the soaked section of the bread almost caused Agrias to smirk; emphasis on 'tried.' She did not fail, but it did look humorous as Ovelia tried to avoid the dripping soup coming down from the bread. (Which is why I don't wear white), Agrias thought. Falling into bad habit, Agrias inhaled her own portions, and she waited discreetly for everyone else to finish. To her surprise, Ramza already was, and he excused himself to talk with their host, which Agrias appreciated. She was uneasy in dealing with the general citizenry, and in fact, she was curious as to why an ex-noble like Ramza would be so carefree around the peasantry. (Well, he has been on his own he says. . .) she rationalized.  
  
Agrias thought back for a moment on her own heritage as she suppressed a belch, which would've been unforgivable, after all, she was a woman and in the presence of a princess. Her family wasn't quite noble, but they were well off to begin with. A few more successful generations, and they might become a noble line. (Or. . .) Agrias' mind told her, (it might end after you. . .) The soup almost turned wholly bitter in her mouth.  
  
On her father's side was a hereditary priesthood, where her mother's clan traditionally entered the military of Lesalia, even if it was just in the purser's role. Agrias had grown up both as a military and a religious girl, never having any doubt in what she would be, especially since what she knew she would become was something she aspired to be. (So much better than being married off to some rich old noble fool) Agrias reflected, glancing over at Ramza. Somehow, the security in her life was something she enjoyed, even if its shortcomings were apparent at times, but Agrias was grateful nonetheless. She was all too aware of the alternative.  
  
***  
  
Talking to the farmer turned out to be rather interesting from Ramza. The man had taken him aside onto the side of the porch opposite the eating knights, and addressed him bluntly. Ramza noticed the man looking down at his boots. "Are you Hokuten." The tone was rhetorical.  
  
Within Ramza went back to the internal debate of the boots' utility versus their affinity for being recognized. "For the longest time in my life."  
  
"Still young," the farmer commented, nodding appreciatively, and Ramza realized his tone as being sympathetic. "I forgot; they start you off as chillun'." He paused and brought up something else he just thought about, even as Ramza and the farmer noted Agrias staring at them sidelong. "How come you're not with them still?" he asked. "Unless you're incompetent or corrupt, they don't let y'go. . ."  
  
"It wasn't a question of honor. . ." Ramza said slowly, "but of truth and what I thought was right."  
  
The farmer shook his head. "What's the diffrence 'tween honor and what y'just mentioned? If that's how you see it, then 'honor' is nothing more than pride."  
  
Ramza nodded, conceding his point. "I didn't know anymore, so. . . I ran away."  
  
"But you still use a sword?" the farmer asked, scratching his slightly protruding stomach. The man was fit from farm work, but the good diet he enjoyed as well as approaching middle-age contributed to his unsightly waist, or in other words, his beer belly.  
  
"Its who I am. . ."  
  
"That's a sad existence lad," the farmer told him sadly. "Even if you just till the earth, its still something, something outside of violence." The farmer glanced over at Agrias and changed the subject. "Well, how else can I help y'all? I take it you're headed towards Zaland?"  
  
"Yes sir," Ramza replied, "is there anything we should know?" he asked in curiosity.  
  
Shrugging, the farmer remarked, "Tame as it could be out here. . . except in the city." That caught Agrias' attention, but she did not leave Ovelia's side. As if to bait her into coming there and joining the conversation -as she should have, the farmer went on. "You heard there's no crime in Lionel?" he asked, clucking as he shook his head. "There's no little crime, yes, but that's because there's something else bigger than highway robbery."  
  
Ramza thought for a moment, and spoke loudly enough for Agrias and Ovelia to overhear. "What do you mean?"  
  
"'Call themselves a 'trading company'," the farmer quipped, displaying the provincial drawl in his voice. "Anyway, its just hearsay 'mong us farm folk." All that was missing was the conspiratorial wink.  
  
***  
  
There was not much else to say. The man was a good host, accommodating them and asking no real questions, a fact for which Agrias was grateful for and suspicious. Taking another look at the man, and remembering what she had seen in his house, Agrias let the issue go. The man had been a soldier. Through and through, and he did little to hide it. The scarred escudo above the humble hearth displayed the crest of a volunteer army corps, one from Lionel, in fact. Agrias dismissed it at the time, thinking, (he bought the farm?) which she found darkly amusing.  
  
The man had good instincts, Agrias conceded, to know not to inquire but still render aid. As the sun's path began to show an apogee, it was time to leave. Thought of giving the man monetary compensation had crossed her mind, but she decided against it. It'd almost be a slight towards his hospitality, something to be given, not to be bought. Also, Agrias knew that to give the man information would possibly endanger him and his household, so, against what she wanted to do, Agrias settled for telling the man her gratitude.  
  
"We. . ." she began slowly, "we thank you for all your help." Again, there wasn't much to say.  
  
Smiling knowingly, the man nodded lightly. "Anyone is welcome at my hearth. . . one more thing, that young man over there, there's something that I wish to give 'im, if its too late to give to his pa," he finished, his tone even, his accent becoming more apparent.  
  
Now it was complicated. Just as the man would not ask questions, nor would he answer them. (Small world. . .) Agrias thought cynically. (So he knew Ramza's father. . .)  
  
"Simmons, bring out 'Windfall'," he called out. Again, the awkward boy came out, this time from the small stable behind the stone farmhouse, leading an adolescent Black Chocobo, with its characteristic, purple down, more slender build, and wider wings. "Before you say anything," the farmer told Ramza, "he is a windfall, an extra chocobo, plus the black ones are no good for farming, law says he'll have to be destroyed soon as he's big 'nuff," he continued. "Also, if y'are who y'are, you'd know how ta 'ride' a Black 'Cobo properly."  
  
The implication in the man's statement wanted to make Agrias ask questions, but she quelled them, thinking back to her resolution the previous night and the man's character. (Ramza, cavalry?) Agrias wondered. (No, he was just a noble. . . of course he'd know how to ride) she concluded.  
  
Gingerly, Ramza approached Windfall, who seemed blasé at what was going on around him. Sharing an odd look, with Simmons, the purple bird eyed its new master placatingly, as if to subdue he who would dominate him. Almost as an insult, the bird dismissed the boy, affording him the same respect as the adolescent Simmons.  
  
"Don't say nothin', boy," the farmer told him. "Pardon if it's a ghost you'd rather not run into again, but it's a debt I have to pay back," the man told him, already refusing Ramza's own hesitation.  
  
Surprising everyone, Ramza simply nodded, "I understand. I won't forget this. . ."  
  
"Your kind never does," the man concluded. "Settle your debts, but don't dig yourself into anymore, y'hear?"  
  
***  
  
"Mr. Ruglia," Ovelia asked, "That farmer. . . could you explain?" she began, asking what Agrias wanted to but resolved herself not to inquire.  
  
In turn Ramza -still walking the chocobo he had been given as a gift, turned back. "I am afraid I cannot, Princess Ovelia. The farmer was a soldier during the war and had known my father during then. I have never met him before today. . ." he answered the unspoken question. "I could not refuse his gift," Ramza told her, feeling caught between birth and his current company, both consequences of his noble heritage.  
  
"Oh," Ovelia said, confused herself at Ramza's lack of information. That thread of conversation died there, as Ovelia was not interested in the war, and especially in light of what might happen if she were not taken to safety within the next few days. Initially, a search would begin, and naturally, accusations would be declared. In that level of credibility in the noble arena, credibility is the most valuable coin. Once fined, it cannot be reimbursed.  
  
***  
  
They were almost at the gates of Zaland -one of many, in fact. During the war, this was a fortified position, the last defense-line before invaders from the south would sweep into Lesalia, the heart of Ivalice, from the Lionel Peninsula. The extra defenses before the gates were long since removed, but the telltale postholes and ditches left testament to what had stood before. Now it was only a plain stone wall, quite easy to scale in fact, with an unguarded gate that was left open; even the city's wall had been stripped of stone to rebuild and expand the community. Peace had come to Lionel, where death and glory were one and the same, priceless and senseless all in one.  
  
"What do you plan to do with Windfall, Ramza?" Alicia asked. "Do you plan to start using him right away?"  
  
"Maybe to carry part of the load," Ramza told her. He didn't elaborate seeing as Ovelia herself was riding upon Boco, but his statement was clear to the mount-less knights: there was no use to ride upon the animal when he would still keep the same pace as the group.  
  
Agrias had planned that they would in fact, not have a scout, as that would arouse further suspicion. Not knowing to take the farmer's word for what it might be, she still worried about highwaymen, but figured that a lone figure on Chocobo would not be worth the time for all the effort they would have to expend on running down a mounted scout. Everyone would remain within the main group. Unlike merchant convoys, there was only one 'juicy' target: the cloaked figure that was Ovelia incognito. With Lionel's reputation, kidnapping an obvious VIP would be persecuted with maximum prejudice.  
  
Plus, the obvious reason: he did not yet tame Windfall. Domesticated the black chocobo was, Ramza had not had a chance to see for himself how the bird would perform under him. It was a task that would take days, if it didn't extend into weeks and months. Unlike plain chocobo, who were used as a strong mounts and secondary healers, black chocobo were more fragile, but able to carry a human in limited flight because of its lighter, more aerodyne mass and larger wings. The plain chocobo preferred to use its beak and talons; black chocobo preferred to hock out a ball of magical energy, avoiding contact if it can.  
  
"Another mouth to feed," Alicia quipped, but it was she who was holding a bag of grain to feed Windfall, who eagerly took to the two female knights. Her happy demeanor belied her cynic statement.  
  
"We'll be resupplying at Zaland," Agrias told them. "We have enough money to accommodate basic needs for at least a month." Times past had told her the importance of inventory and the management of resources.  
  
"Wonder what if that farmer was right about the city," Alicia said, ignoring the glare her superior was giving her for mentioning such a thing out loud.  
  
Wordlessly, Agrias noticed Ramza indiscreetly equipping a bow, placing his quiver swung low besides his waist. Even Boco had noticed, evidenced by his gate being unsteady for a small distance.  
  
***  
  
They had arrived at Zaland Fort City, almost at least. The city had been built on top of a natural fortification, and as high up as they already were, they still had to ascend up an earthen ramp perpendicular to the low wall. As they reached the base of the incline, another young man appeared at the crest of the gateway. Wearing oversized blue work pants that reached up above his waist with a yellow long-sleeved shirt, he looked haggard. Agrias observed him and came with a swift conclusion: prey. Where Ramza had the disturbing taint about him, the boy up above was scared. But, even prey, backed to a corner could lash out.  
  
Yelling could be heard from just within the fort city's reduced walls. It became quickly apparent: it was a fight, and the boy was outnumbered. Intinctively, Agrias had Boco crouch to the ground and she covered the princess with her shield, sword, and body as the Holy Knight had Boco lean up against the earthen ramp for further cover. The reason, an arrow had just flown over the gateway, missing the young man up above.  
  
"An argument?" Agrias remarked rhetorically, even if her voice was directed to Ramza. "Someone's after that young man. . ." Within, she was angry. Caught in an altercation, the chances of them being hurt was slim, but they were still pinned down. To venture out from beyond the base of the ramp would be to expose themselves to stray arrows, whilst they did not know what was within the city walls. For all they knew, it could be the Lionel authorities.  
  
It was Ramza who decided what they would do. "He'll be killed if we don't do something!" he cried out, kneeling besides Agrias, his eagerness warm anxiety, not cool calculation. "Let's help!" he urged her.  
  
Agrias did not want to get involved. They did not know what the argument was about, and again, she did not who the others were. (I'd rather not have to explain why the Royal Guard had to fight the local soldiers. . .) she considered. Still, Ramza was her conscience at that point, and she knew he would scale the walls himself, alone, without her.  
  
Taking a look at Princess Ovelia, anxious herself, kneeling on the ground, with Boco guarding her with his bulk, his left wing draped protectively atop her, Agrias made a decision.  
  
She followed him.  
  
Ovelia nodded at her, and it relieved her guilt somewhat, that the princess was authorizing her to help. It wasn't a direct order, but it was approval. 'Go' Ovelia mouthed, and Agrias ran after Ramza, even as he was making his way up the ramp. Feeling angry at herself, Agrias noticed that Alicia and Lavian had not hesitated to follow the boy, even as they lagged behind him, Lavian covering Alicia as the two made for the gateway. Pained, Agrias dismissed their allegiance to him, as if it was a dereliction of duty.  
  
(Was it?) Agrias asked herself. (Yes!) her sense of duty cried out to her, angry at her for choosing to follow Ramza.  
  
Ramza had already knocked an arrow into his bow, and as an armored knight, bareheaded, climbed upon the short wall to pursue the young man trapped above, Ramza loosed the projectile, piercing the man's torso armor just below the armpit, high on his torso. That did not stop the man, who angrily tore the arrow out and called back into the city.  
  
Now whoever was within knew of their interference.  
  
Still, the knight did not have the chance to jump off the wall -Windfall struck. Taking cue from Ramza, the black chocobo took the knight as his foe. Racing aside his new master, the purple chocobo extended its neck forwards, swept its wings forward and out and hocked out a ball of reddish- black energy, inscribed in runes, at Ramza's target. The man's armor visibly warped and scorched as the man was knocked off the wall, back into the city.  
  
Agrias was reminded why the Black Chocobo would've been destroyed if it had remained on the farmstead. Focusing on Ramza as she ran after him, frantic, Agrias cast a protection spell. "Precious light," she addressed him, her voice growing confused, "be our armor to protect us. . ." she trailed off, before raising her voice. "Protect!"  
  
Only Ramza was affected, as a pale aura began to emanate from him. He gave her a look as he nodded curtly, before he made for the point on the wall he where he had shot the knight. Before he began to scale the wall, he unhitched his quiver and dropped his bow; they would only get in the way.  
  
The sharp crack that came from the young man they were fighting to save caused Agrias to start, jolting her. She saw a small wisp of smoke come from the end of the object he held, what she had assumed to be a small club. The scream from a woman that followed the loud sound caused Agrias to wonder what it was. Two more arrows came over the wall, this time, deliberate shots. Fortunately, none landed anywhere near them, as the archers were probing the outside.  
  
True to their experience, Alicia and Lavian kept silent, not shouting out, refusing to give away their position as they loped past Ramza, who began to scale the low wall, and Windfall easily hopped up onto the wall and let out another 'Choco Ball' at an unseen opponent.  
  
Ramza faced back before he lifted himself up the battlements of the wall, gazing back at her. Even from that distance, he held her gaze. Then, he was gone, over the wall, immediately leaping down into Zaland, out of her sight. Agrias understood. She would stay here, to protect the princess, to not commit the same mistake she had before, where it had been her indignation and inability to control Gafgarion, who must have lured her out of the monastery, that had cost her the princess and lead up to where they were now.  
  
Still, as her knights and her Ramza went into battle, she felt guilt and regret for not being able to follow them in. (Its my responsibility) she repeated to herself, and she stood there, shield braced, readying herself for any more incoming fire. The princess was covered by Boco and the baggage chocobo, and she was on hand to respond in case anyone came from behind.  
  
Agrias worried for what was behind that wall, and what she knew she was condemning her companions to face without her.  
  
A fear that was realized when she saw a portion of the air in the city transform and a bolt of lightning come down from the ethereal storm cloud. Ramza's scream followed immediately afterwards.  
  
Automatically, Agrias started forwards before she got a hold of herself. Kneeling on the ground, Agrias began to hyperventilate as she kept herself from rushing to Ramza. To him, to his aid, to his life. All she could do was stay there, fulfilling her duty to her princess, holding back her tears.  
  
***  
  
Still conscious, Ramza held his mouth slack after the scream that had ripped itself from him upon being hit with the bolt spell. Now he could see what he had jumped into. The knight he and Windfall had struck was down, and Ramza noticed that he could smell freshly cooked meat. . . human meat. Also, a female archer was down on the ground besides a cluster of crates stacked against a house, dead or unconscious, a wisp of smoke coming from her abdomen as she lay there on the ground, facing the sky.  
  
Yet, remaining where two more knights, both coming after him, two wizards, both standing by another house, and on a rooftop, was another female archer. And there Ramza was, facing them all. One more spell or so, Ramza knew, and he'd be down, and the second wizard was casting a spell. Ramza knew he was dancing on the razor's edge.  
  
Ramza had committed a grave mistake, he gambled, and though he didn't lose, he hadn't quite won. The dice continued to roll, and ducking his head, Ramza charged the second wizard, ignoring the two knights who closed in on him.  
  
***  
  
Agrias felt for him, trying to find his presence on the battlefield, abandoning her sight as the sense she depended on. She did not feel him. However, she felt another spell being cast by a second person, and sensing what it was targeting, Agrias began her own spell, praying for who she thought her target was. "Silent light," she whispered, her conviction returning, "shield from evil. . ." she prayed. . . "Shell!" She prayed. . .  
  
***  
  
Ramza felt another aura surround him, blanketing him in another layer of light. He paid little heed as he felt it do no damage to him -at least no pain he could feel yet as he closed distance with the second wizard. It was a race between himself and the wizard. Who could run faster than the other could cast. Ramza won, even as one of the knights tried to engage him. That knight missed, while Ramza struck on the fly and laidd open a portion of the chain mail the man wore. As Ramza intended, and the wizard feared, the spell came down upon them all.  
  
***  
  
Agrias watched the flash of azure behind the wall as the wizard unleashed his ice spell upon Ramza. She kept from wincing as the sound of a the massive crystal of ice shattering tore through the air. Not knowing if her own spell had been cast in time, she held her breath, wondering why she heard two screams, not one, and neither of them Ramza's. Slowly, she began to hope. (Alicia. . . Lavian,) Agrias thought, (I leave him to you.)  
  
***  
  
Ramza wondered why he was not struck down. He had made a suicidial end-run against the wizard targeting him, running the man down even as he continued to cast, his fellow wizard, still recharging running away, and the second knight protecting the mage. When the wizard cast the spell, he had cast it upon Ramza. But, since Ramza brought himself close the wizard, it affected them all, including the knight protecting said caster.  
  
The dice had been rolled, and Ramza came out ahead by one; intending to take the wizard and the knight protecting that mage when the spell cast upon him would hit, Ramza did not expect to be standing. The other wizard had run away, heading for the protection of the last living knight on his side.  
  
The second wizard slew himself with his own spell. As mages trained themselves to be more sensitive to the magical arts and in faith, so were they made more susceptible.  
  
The knight fared little better, already wounded, and he too, fell, his face gashed open by a razor of ice.  
  
On Windfall's side, he had engaged the other archer  
  
Ramza realized. Agrias had saved him. He recognized the aura bestowed upon him to be what it was, a pair of protective spells cast upon him. Not allowing himself to stay there, halt, and start to shake in relief, Ramza headed for the running wizard, hoping to cut him down before the final enemy knight could challenge Ramza.  
  
The young man on the gateway shot him first. In another loud blast, Ramza saw the wizard be knocked forwards as the mage's robed back was perforated by some kind of projectile, tearing itself through him. The smoldering wound of the downed man let Ramza know how the first archer had been slain.  
  
The kid had shot him, somehow, with some kind of device.  
  
Ramza made a mistake. He ignored the final archer. He felt his left bicep flare in pain before it went numb, the arrow going through his arm, missing bone, but tearing through flesh. His grip in that hand disappeared, and he held his mithril sword only in his right now. Ramza couldn't even tell himself that it wasn't fatal as he engaged the final knight with only one arm, and an archer to support that opponent.  
  
Yet, there was hope. Alicia and Lavian had finally passed through the gate, and were sprinting towards him.  
  
***  
  
Agrias looked up from where she stood at the edge of the earthen ramp, from where she had taken a look back to check on Ovelia, still nestled protectively by the bulk of two chocobo. Alert, she kept her station standing as a strongpoint should the forces within be turned back, knowing that if the battle went against them, there would be no retreat for those within the walls. Angry at herself for what kept her here, away from supporting him, but most of all, angry at Ramza for what he was doing to her; what he made her feel, and how it tore away at her mind. Irrationality was something she couldn't help, and truth to be told, she had very good reasons for feeling that way.  
  
***  
  
The battle was over. Once the first wizard was slain, the balance had been tipped onto Ramza's favor. When Alicia and Lavian entered the fracas, the former hurriedly shoved Ramza away from the melee while Lavian engaged the other knight. It was no contest between a fresh warrior and one who had seen the rest of his team slain, sapping his will to fight. Seizing the moment when Ramza fell back for medical attention -his wounded arm would have rendered him useless, and already Ramza was beginning to feel the pain grow more intense as the shock began to wear off- the final knight ran.  
  
It was for a good reason. On the rooftops, several more archers had appeared, followed swiftly on the ground by three squads of four squires, each of them lead by a knight. A final group of several mages followed; two wizards in their robes, a time mage in his conical hat, and something feared on the battlefield, a mage dressed in a green mantle with a headband sprouting a horn: a summoner.  
  
Ramza was still conscious, the pain was great, but the adrenaline, testosterone, and endorphins he had built up kept him wired, alert, observant. Turning to look up at the likewise agitated young man at the top of the gateway, Ramza called out to him. "Are you all right?"  
  
Ramza almost screamed as Alicia tightened her grip on his arm as she pulled the arrow through his arm, and he could have sworn that he felt the arrow's fletching brush his torn flesh within. Giving her a pained look, Ramza saw exasperation in her eyes.  
  
***  
  
Agrias sheathed her sword as she spotted the armed group approaching Princess Ovelia and the chocobos at the bottom of the ramp; they came from the countryside. For a good reason, they bore the standard of Lionel, and Agrias recognized their banner: they were Count Draclau's own soldiers. Taking a breath, Agrias approached them, still wearing her shield, wondering how she was going to explain the situation.  
  
On the whole, she was relieved. The results of the battle within the battle still unknown, yet contact with the Lionel authority had been made, even if it was in an awkward fashion -an understatement to say the least.  
  
***  
  
It was almost surreal for Agrias, even as she suffered adrenaline letdown as much as Alicia and Lavian. Approaching her, a man wearing a thick weather-beaten leather vest with a tartan-less kilt -a skirt- hailed, "Who breaks the peace?" he inquired, his voice even and calm.  
  
The fact that the man didn't bother to accent any authority, challenge, or superiority told Agrias of his mettle. Automatically, she had gauged the apparent leader of the approaching group The man was a geomancer, one of the skilled knights who used the earth itself as a weapon. With him were three squires, two archers, and a lone thief. A detachment ; reinforcements or replacements between the Lionel billets, Agrias surmised.  
  
"I am Agrias Oaks, Knight of St. Konoe," she announced, raising her voice to make herself heard clearly.  
  
The man paused in his step before continuing onwards. "May I ask what the royal guard is doing here?" There was apprehension in him, as he was responding to the incoming fight, and the possible implication of the presence of royalty was one that caused him to think fast.  
  
"Seeking refuge in the Count Draclau," Ovelia announced, standing high, making herself visible from the two chocobo who sheltered her.  
  
Immediately, the geomancer stopped, and slowly, he knelt onto his right knee, bowing his head. Taking his cue, the other Lionel soldiers also kneeled.  
  
"Sir," Ovelia addressed the geomancer as she curiously bade him to rise, "we need your help," she stated simply. "My guards are involved. . ." Wordlessly, the Lionel soldiers nodded, rose, and began a quick march, marching around where Agrias stood before the princess, and up the incline.  
  
Agrias allowed herself to feel some relief. While she would not trust any of those soldiers with Ovelia's personal safety, the geomancer seemed to believe in her authority. Finally, they had made first contact with Lionel authorities. "There was an altercation. . ." Agrias began, talking to the geomancer leading the soldiers.  
  
Briefly, she wondered -worried- about Ramza. She could trust her soldiers to take care of themselves, and from the sounds she had heard, the brunt of the fighting was already over, the battle lasting less than a minute. But Ramza. . . a minute of excitement, sense of roused justice, sensibilities, and anger. It reminded her of what she had come to call 'the bad old days', adding to the feeling that she was helpless in protecting that which she cherished.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
I started to struggle on some parts of this. Again, it was at the battle sequences. Its just not what I want to do. They take up so much volume and effort, but have little to no true meaning, nothing to add to the story.  
  
Pointing this out again, Agrias' feelings are beginning to conflict. Duty to the princess isn't everything to Agrias, but she must behave as if it was. This mindset of hers will be a source of danger, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  
  
As to the new characters, Windfall and the geomancer. Don't think about them. Ramza needs a ride or at the least, a baggage animal, this is him. Plus, it made a brief highlight of his upbringing as on of the nobility.  
  
The final segments where Ovelia convinced the Lionel soldiers so easily. The geomancer recognized her (who else would a St. Konoe knight protect?) and he picked up on her nuance. A fight involving her guards at the very least meant an indirect threat to Royalty, and Draclau is a ROYALIST (Loyal to the Crown). Act fast, or act not at all is a maxim that might fit this situation.  
  
***Reader's Response Corner***  
  
Thank you all for your support, especially you, Minka-chan. I'm happy that this story entertains you. . .  
  
. . . and causes you to do silly things ^_^.  
  
Sorry everyone, for the upcoming froth and turbulence concerning the writing process.  
  
Also, to the guy who voiced some concerns. No offense, but they were very nebulous and general, could you become more specific?  
  
-Thanks for pointing out the typo errors. I really do need to proofread.  
  
*** 


	8. 07 Slowdown

***Author's Notes***  
  
First off: I've gone back and proofread Chapter 06 (as well as formatted it for ff.net). For those of you who would like to see what it should've been, check, otherwise, you haven't missed out on much (a lot of it was just formatting that got deleted by ff.net).  
  
Some trouble still. Be warned, the following scene is going to read pretty slow. Battle-free, of course. The differences I've made have been growing and conflicting with the in-game storyline to the point where I'm wondering if battles might have to be cut out. . .  
  
If there is to be a theme, I'd say it'd be 'vignettes'.  
  
Nothing too blatant in this chapter, but the devil is in the details.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-07 "Slowdown" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 07)  
  
***  
  
***January 4th, Year 2. Zaland Fort City***  
  
After looking over at Ramza quickly, seeing that his wound was minor -she refused to allow herself to think otherwise- Agrias continued to be by Ovelia's side, making sure that everything was being done to ensure her safety, even with the knowledge that they were at the mercy of the Lionel troops. On Ramza's side, the group of soldiers and mages that intervened turned out to be the local constabulary, consisting mainly of ex-soldiers who remained in a martial role, preferred or having no other choice.  
  
The ones that Ramza and the young man -Mustadio was his name, fought were either corpses, or have escaped. The lone swordsman was still unaccounted for; the archer that escaped was slain as she resisted arrest. The affair had been quickly settled, with the royal party being rushed off to the constabulary building where they would stay.  
  
The basic message was already apparent to the soldiers at Zaland: Princess Ovelia is seeking protection in Lionel's leader, Draclau, who was a zealous royalist. Full cooperation was being granted, the soldiers taking Agrias and Ovelia at their words, not even asking for any papers even as Agrias handed over the documentation and the royal seals of the Atskascha.  
  
It was settled. They would stay in Zaland until tomorrow, where they would be escorted by a contingent of soldiers to Lionel Castle, a marcb of two days at a relaxed pace. Once there, they would rest, but no sooner. Even the possibility of a rogue brigand harming Ovelia would be considered by an act of war in Lionel against Gallione; the Hokuten's home province.  
  
Now, Agrias wanted to settle another matter, the young man Ramza had rushed headlong into battle to save, not knowing what the reason for the fighting was, simply siding with the underdog, blindly following what he saw as his conscience, his truth. To a small degree, it made her feel jealous, a sentiment she quickly denied and rebuffed as something else.  
  
Leaving Princess Ovelia in an underground chamber with Alicia and Lavian to safeguard her, Agrias went to the room across the stone tunnel that served as a subterranean hallway. Quickly, she took Ramza with her. Alicia had assured her that his wound was fine, even with the muscle damage, the quick potion infusion healed most of it, though Ramza was not supposed to use his left arm for the next few days. A matter Agrias was not so confident about, not having examined his wound herself, unable to make sure in her own eyes and intuition that he was fine.  
  
Now they were in the room with Mustadio, alone. Nervously Mustadio, his thick ponytail cut short, gave them both weird glances, resigned, yet hopeful.  
  
The questions began.  
  
***  
  
"They were troublemakers hired by Bart Company," Mustadio told them after being asked about the fight.  
  
"Bart Company?" Agrias repeated, thinking, "the importer?" He tone was almost impassive, callous as she examined Mustadio.  
  
"You know them?" he continued almost eagerly in his nervous countenance. "They're just not traders," he said, his voice awkward, almost erratic. "They're a criminal syndicate into everything from smuggling and slavery."  
  
This set Agrias thinking some more. She wanted to disbelieve the boy outright, but she knew that everything he said wasn't a lie. The best ones were almost complete truths.  
  
"Why were they after you?" Ramza asked, finally bringing up the golden question. His tone was friendly, but Agrias saw coldness in his eyes -casual, yet intense focus and detachment- she knew was reminiscent of a leader, something she was sure others saw in her.  
  
"You know why they call us 'mechanics?'" Mustadio asked in return, responding to a question with a rhetorical one.  
  
It was obvious that the boy was a mechanic, he seemed to be the type. Odd clothing with lots of pockets, and an obvious social ineptness that Mustadio displayed. Agrias had already dismissed him as mentally unstable -mildly, but still someone she naturally looked down upon. It certainly explained why he had such a weapon.  
  
Taking the initiative, Agrias inserted her own comments in. "I hear a 'lost civilization' is hidden under Goug. . ." she paused, watching his reaction. True enough his posture shifted, indicating that she had found something. "When St. Ajora was alifve, airships were in the sky," she retold the stories, "and human robots in town. But time passed, technology was lost, and nobody knows if it ever really existed." The story depressed Agrias, who detested it, since it told of humanity's decline.  
  
"But the civilization must have existed." Mustadio took the bait. "Parts from many airships and machines are buried under Goug. Mechanics," he said with pride," are the ones who restore the 'past legacies.'"  
  
Taking a sidelong look at Agrias that she caught, Ramza nodded. "That weird thing you used in the battle, was that one of the machines?" It was a rhetorical question.  
  
Carefully, Mustadio opened up the leather holster he had on his left hip, and retracted the clumsy-looking tubular weapon with a perpendicular handle. "Oh, this?" he said almost off-handedly. "This is called a 'gun.' A metal 'bullet' is propelled by gunpowder," he lectured, and Agrias tried to remember what she knew about such technology. "This is the most simple one," he remarked, shrugging. "They say you used to be able to put magic in it and shoot it."  
  
(As if its not lethal enough,) Agrias thought.  
  
"Hmm. . ." Ramza said, taking another look at Agrias.  
  
Returning his open gaze, she asked again what they wanted to know. "Why's Bart Company after you?" she pressed, her voice firmer.  
  
"You said you were going to see the cardinal." Mustadio countered, evading the question. "He was a hero of the Fifty Years War. People in Lionel still think of him as a hero." His voice faltered. "My father too. The cardinal is the only one who can unite this country." That caused Agrias to raise her brow. "I know he'd grant your wish. Then the princess would be safe."  
  
Annoyed, Agrias wished that the young man had not overheard so much of the discussion with the Lionel soldiers.  
  
"Yeah," Agrias responded bluntly, almost annoyed, "and. . ."  
  
"Can you take me with you?" Mustadio begged, gesticulating. "I want to meet the cardinal."  
  
Agrias only replied, "Why?" She almost refused outright.  
  
"To save my father!" Mustadio blurted out. "The cardinal's the only one who can rescue him from Bart!" he exclaimed. "But he wouldn't want to meet some mechanics like myself," he remarked dejectedly. "So please. Take me with you!"  
  
Unmoved, Agrias was only annoyed. "You still haven't told us why they're after you!"  
  
Mustadio continued to stand there, just staring at them, pleading. ". . . I can't tell you now," he said tiredly.  
  
Agrias didn't even stare at him, turning to Ramza instead. Feeling that she wanted to some assistance, even though the issue was completely in her hands, she still wanted to have some support. Without hesitation, Ramza nodded, indicating that he would back whatever she decided. Sternly, without mercy or regret, Agrias replied, "Then, we can't take you."  
  
"I beg you!" Mustadio almost yelled. "Trust me!" he pleaded, failing to rouse her sympathy, "I must see the cardinal!"  
  
As Agrias was about to dismiss him, the door opened. Both her and Ramza turned around. She noticed his reaction was faster than hers, and more fluid, his hands still empty even as she instinctively grasped the hilt of her sword, inverted in its sheath. Agrias relaxed as she saw the plain face of Lavian, before it ducked back out and Ovelia appeared at the doorway, giving both her and Ramza a light nod.  
  
Immediately, Agrias matched Ramza as they each fell to one knee, bowing their heads. Whilst Agrias did not trust Mustadio, she knew that she could trust Ramza to make sure she was safe. Something that surprised her, realizing that by extension, she not only willingly laid her life in his hands, but the princess' as well.  
  
As soon as she walked up to Ramza and Agrias, Ovelia stopped. Already she was changed into a fresh set of robes, and it was obvious that she at least had washed her face already. "All right," she announced softly, "you can come with us."  
  
Training built into her, Agrias refrained from protesting. She saw Ramza turn his head to look at her -again, and she gave him a small smile. (I'm fine) she thought, wondering if he could understand. The light nod he gave her in return almost startled her.  
  
"Really?" Mustadio said, uncertain, his voice changing to jubilant. "Thank you, Highness!" he praised.  
  
Taking a look back, Agrias glared at him. "Remember!" she said harshly," You're in the presence of a princess!"  
  
Clumsily, Mustadio dropped to one knee, embarrassed.  
  
Ovelia kept herself from giggling. Hoping that she would not offend her overzealous knight, she intervened. "It's all right," she told them, "Please stand up."  
  
All of them rose, and Agrias faced Ramza as she said, "All right then. I trust you."  
  
Ovelia wondered who it was Agrias addressed.  
  
***  
  
Together with Ramza, Agrias sat at a rectangular table in a meeting room inside the building they were in, which was actually a fortification built within the fort city, which had no central keep, but instead a network of semi-independent strongpoints. It had its weaknesses, but it kept the enemy from completely decentralizing command and communications with one well-placed barrage or mass-assassin. Ovelia was at the head of the table, in between the two.  
  
The tapestries helped keep the room was enough, and Agrias was pleased at their content. All of them were of the fields or of the inner working of the fort city. Of all things. Not some 'glorious' battle, nor some 'epic' hunt, simply scenes of labor, of buildings, of people existing. Somehow, such plain literalness was appealing to her.  
  
With them were several of the Lionel soldiers, knights in charge of the local units, as well as the mayor of the fort-city, a civilian. Ramza was with her for support, something which Agrias appreciated, even if he really did not belong in this forum. (Not unless he was still a noble), Agrias pondered.  
  
"Messengers have been sent ahead of you to Lionel Castle," a knight told them, dressed in plain linen clothing. "The cardinal should be able to receive you properly when you arrive, Excellency," he reported to Ovelia while truly telling Agrias.  
  
The hesitation in his voice was palpable. "Its all right," she told him, "whatever he decides, I am sure it is the right thing," Ovelia finished.  
  
The mayor made his statement. "You seem to be tired," he phrased thinly, nervous about breaching the obvious. It didn't take much intelligence for one to figure out that this was no state visit, especially with the small contingency that was insufficient for the purpose.  
  
"We appreciate the hospitality," Agrias spoke for the group's interests -ensuring the safety of the princess, "but we will be taking our sojourn at Lionel Castle."  
  
"Ah. . . I understand," the mayor replied, playing along. "I noticed that you did not have enough chocobos for everyone?"  
  
Another knight stepped in, or so he appeared to be one until Agrias noticed the draconian crest he wore on his ceremonial gorget. (A dragoon. . .) she pondered. Armored soldiers to be sure, but they came from the archer class - combining maneuverability and accuracy with heavy protection and melee weaponry to become lethal at longer ranges than their sword- bearing equivalents. Where knights were known for their cool temperament and skills, dragoons cultivated aggression and speed. "We have a shipment of chocobo due for Lionel Castle," he told them, "if you would like, they are yours to use on the way there."  
  
Pleased, Agrias accepted. "That would be appreciated," she told them. She wasn't much for protocol when it came to martial matters, but technically, the mayor ran the town, and she could hardly talk to him as bluntly as she would another of her profession, that of war, regardless of the motive, something which she had come to bitterly admit.  
  
Ramza was the one who asked the obvious, saving her the trouble. "Will we have company?" he inquired.  
  
***  
  
The unofficial meeting finished, and plans made for tomorrow, the mayor dismissed them, and Agrias took the princess back to their subterranean quarters. It wasn't that she worried for the allegiance of Lionel as a whole -they'd be dead already if these soldiers weren't, but she still considered the possibility of an agent; a potential assassin was always a threat that could never be taken lightly, especially in lieu of who she was.  
  
Ramza stayed behind, presumably to find Alicia and Lavian, the two having visited the armory to have their equipment looked over, and if necessary, repaired.  
  
Agrias opted to lag behind the princess, letting a squire who remained nameless lead them through the tunnels built during the war. Getting to their room took little time, and as the squire closed the door as he left, Agrias sighed.  
  
"Tired?" Ovelia asked her.  
  
Understanding that the princess wanted informality, Agrias granted it to her, a small bit of irony. "Yes. We haven't had enough rest," the Holy Knight told Ovelia. Agrias stopped there however, before she began to list off all her concerns as a leader for those she was responsible for, a duty independent to that of protecting Ovelia. "With those chocobo, the trip to Lionel Castle might only be a day. A long ride, but its better than being in the field for over a night.  
  
"Ah. . ." Ovelia replied, remembering what she was learning of such matters. Truth to be told, neither of them wanted to talk about what they would do upon reaching Lionel, not now at least. They'd worry about it later, of course, but for the moment, a distraction, any distraction, would be a blessing. "Agrias, what do you think of Mr. Ruglia?" As Agrias blinked, seeming caught off-guard, and Ovelia continued to question her, albeit at a more indirect angle. "He was one of those mercenaries. . ."  
  
"His loyalty cannot be doubted," Agrias replied crisply, retracting into a shell, that of duty. "His allegiance is as unquestionable as one of my own knights," she continued.  
  
"In battle," Ovelia said, "both at the 'falls," she paused, thinking back of another figure, "the way he fought. . . its different from. . ."  
  
"How he seems otherwise?" Agrias asked, finding that she was smiling, even in bemusement at somebody else being baffled at Ramza's behavior.  
  
Ovelia didn't mean to say that he fought well, combat being something she abhorred. "Yes. . . it is different from what I would expect." Ovelia thought for a moment. "I remember now, his bearing, its that of a noble," she brought up, wondering what else about Ramza she had noticed.  
  
"Yes," Agrias replied, not paying attention to her voice, "he is. . . it is," she corrected herself.  
  
The princess did not comment, wanting her stern quasi-friend/guardian to reveal more of what she felt, even if her methods were not so honest.  
  
***  
  
In the quarters assigned to the knights, Ramza talked to the two, having gone there, finding that Alicia and Lavian had already left the armory. He had taken a side trip to the mess, where he had picked up for the three of them a simple meal. The room served as a buffer in the suite. If an intruder wanted to take a chance at Ovelia, then they would have to go through this room first.  
  
"So we're forbidden to go into town," Alicia repeated, the tone of disappointment in her voice lacking sincerity, as if rehearsed poorly.  
  
Ramza just shrugged. "It makes sense, the princess is not supposed to be here, and the Hokuten must be looking." Alicia just pouted at him, she wanted more of an argument, not simply a rationalization.  
  
"I am sure they already know where we are," Lavian told him, and he nodded his head in agreement.  
  
"Being blatant is asking for them to try something," Ramza replied. "In fact, if we had gone to an inn tonight, someone may have made an attempt there."  
  
"You're thinking too much like lady Agrias," Alicia told him, wishing that he would just play along and be argumentative with her. "How much of that paranoia is valid?"  
  
"That's a relative point," Lavian told her partner, as she bad Ramza to put the food on the table she had dragged right beside the bunk bolted against the wall. Alicia pulled up a chair on the other side of the table, while Lavian sat herself down in the bottom bunk.  
  
Politely, Ramza did not stare as they ate. It was a simple meal again, one with bread, but this time with a different entrée: soup, something they had not have in days, which seemed long enough after the days long march-fighting they had done. The experience wasn't comparable to what they endured during the few weeks they spent in war, but it was grueling enough. Not as complicated, not as chaotic, and the theater revolved around them, adding another type of strain they had not experienced before. In the war, Alicia and Lavian knew that they mattered little if they personally won or loss, but in this series of conflicts, individual failure would mean civil war at the worst.  
  
Curiously, Ramza looked over at the door on the other side of the room, the one that lead to Ovelia's -and Agrias' chamber.  
  
***  
  
"Where's Ramza?" Agrias asked her subordinate when Lavian entered Ovelia's chamber, Alicia on the floor of the room that was the knights' half of the suite, medical supplies strewn around the chemist / knight.  
  
"The stables," Lavian replied, "he's checking the chocobo. I think he's just passing the time," she commented, explaining her interpretation of Ramza's motives.  
  
"Oh." Agrias blinked. "Our plans tomorrow are simple. With a small complement from the soldiers here, we'll set out -on chocobo," she added, bringing in the details of the meeting her two subordinates missed. "With luck, they say we'll make it there within a day, maybe two."  
  
"Who'll be coming with us?" Alicia asked, poking her head through the door. When she noticed Ovelia staring at her intrusion, she bowed hastily, embarrassed.  
  
"A group of rangers lead by a geomancer-" Agrias began, trying to recall the complement of their 'escort'.  
  
"-Archers?" Alicia almost groaned, bringing up their recent experiences with that class of fighter.  
  
Agrias shrugged. "A few; I've only seen the group's leader."  
  
Lavian brought up what was beneath the layer, "Do you expect trouble?"  
  
"No," Agrias replied, unsure. "If we are to be attacked, it won't be by the Hokuten."  
  
"I thought the farmer said that highway robbery wasn't a problem," Ovelia remarked, a little confused.  
  
"It isn't," Agrias agreed, "however, I think we might encounter problems because of that boy. . ."  
  
"Ramza, or Mustadio?" Alicia asked, impatience getting the better of her, annoyed at how someone as direct as Agrias was so nebulous and evasive when it came to Ramza.  
  
"Mustadio. . ." Agrias replied in a tone that implied surprise and confusion. Regaining her confidence, she continued, without explaining her answer, "there's nothing left to do tonight but to rest. We're all exhausted. Even if we tried, we can't wake before the sun rises." For a moment, she thought, before concluding, "Good night."  
  
"Sleeping in sounds nice," Ovelia joked, breaking the tension.  
  
***  
  
Ramza leaned up against the stalls within the chocobo stable. The straw was freshly changed, and the place did not smell as strongly as it normally was. In this moment, he was examining Boco, who in turn, studied him. Briefly, Ramza opened his mouth to talk, but thought better of it, catching himself halfway and instead reaching out with his hand towards Boco.  
  
The hand was slow, but it was resolute, firm in its determination. Even as Boco grew agitated, Ramza did not withdraw. If it came down to it, even if the chocobo snapped at his arm, Ramza would not pull back.  
  
Stupid on the long run, but in that moment, it is what Ramza would allow.  
  
Boco cocked his head back. The hand continued forwards. Boco's beak came down as Ramza winced.  
  
Ramza's hand began to ruffle the smaller feathers underneath Boco's left orbit. Slowly, as Boco continued to grew angry again, his bluff being called, Ramza withdrew. (If everything was this simple. . .) Ramza thought.  
  
***  
  
Restless, Ramza stared up at the ceiling of his room. The tunnel carved in that provided air from the outside only brought in the draft, which Ramza found more bothersome now in 'civilization' than in the field. The candle in its post on the wall lit the room with a steady glow. Ramza only wore a tunic and an aging pair of trousers.  
  
His personal articles -armor and weaponry, lay on the table beside him. Steadily, his equipment had suffered, and Ramza found it unfortunate that they would not stay here long enough for any significant maintenance to be performed. He preferred to use the same items, even if there was something else better; there was a utility with familiarity. (After this is over. . .) Ramza told himself, wondering what 'this' was.  
  
He looked over to where the door was, a chair being stuck under the knob. An unnecessary precaution, as he knew that nothing would happen to him here.  
  
Flexing his arm, he was surprised that he could feel no more ache. Agrias had taken him aside -just for a moment, as Ovelia had excused herself to do something private -which Ramza wisely did not take interest in. During that brief reprieve, he saw that Agrias had wanted to say something to him, just as he wanted to talk to her. "Promise me?" she asked him softly. He had paused, before answering in the affirmative, wondering what she had meant. (To talk again whenever we have the time? Promise her never to leave her behind in a fight? To force her to choose? Or. . .) In his bed, Ramza smiled as he sought to remember the sensations he felt as she had examined his arm, healing him simultaneously. Ramza felt nostalgia as he wondered since how long had he felt such tender loving care from someone.  
  
In the present again, Ramza found himself startled, wondering why his thoughts had wandered onto that path.  
  
From where his right hand drooped on the floor beside his wall- mounted bed, Ramza could pick up the mithril dagger he had placed there, one of the many things he had come to pick up in his brief career as an independent mercenary, before Gafgarion had been sent to keep him in unofficial guardianship. Those few months he had spent alone were harsh, teaching him things that would never have been gone over at Gariland's academy. Lessons learned from people that he had helped exterminate in his first assignments: the annihilation of the Death Corps.  
  
Ramza found it curious that he was not scarred. Even as a swordsman, his hands were still tender, soft and sensitive. True, he was gaunt now, the baby fat he'd had was gone, yet the only muscle he had was conditioned sinew in his arms and legs; his stomach was soft, not sculpted. Whenever it was cold he froze, feeling the chill easily in his bones. His appetite was still there, never having departed him since he began to change into an adult. Always hungry, never satiated, and perpetually receptive.  
  
Thoughts continued down the past until it dwelled on the events that lead him to where he was now: the pursuit of the Death Corps, the beginnings of his doubt on the noble system, and the loss of a friend that he could call a brother, the sacrifice of Teta, and in turn, Delita.  
  
It was a series of events that kept Ramza's attention imprisoned in the few moments of rest that he found during the following months. A series of thoughts that he had explored all to well. A series of conclusions of which he tired.  
  
The inability to accept such things as life was what caused Ramza to keep running away, continuing to widen the gap that one day he would need to bridge again, knowing that unless he could bring himself to discard who he was, only return was his option.  
  
For all the trouble it brought him, Ramza would not abandon who he was. He no longer wore the name Beoulve, but he believed that he had it in spirit still. Unlike those who sullied its name with their actions, Ramza removed it from himself rather than continue with the dishonor, the indignity, the injusitice.  
  
Teta slain by Zalbag's own order to Algus to shoot her in order to reveal Golagros; Zalbag, who less than two weeks before had escorted Teta as his own sister along with Alma.  
  
Yet, Ramza knew he could do nothing. How could such a thing be rectified? Unable to find a reason, adding more to why Ramza ran.  
  
His dead friend, his betrayed friend, his living friend; Delita was in his life again. Ramza wondered what he would do with that knowledge, confused at what role he now served. Delita was involved in something big, something unknown, something that concerned Ivalice's future. A future that Ramza, by birth, had silently been sworn to protect, simply by being a Beoulve.  
  
Not from the cold, Ramza shivered. He was tense now, unable to rest. The ache would begin soon if he didn't start moving and let his body unwind.  
  
Ramza did not want to be involved, but his conscience and sense of duty compelled him to be, even indirectly. Integrity governed most of his actions, but he still considered the other factors. By helping Ovelia, he helped Ivalice. Believing that Delita's nature must still exist, he knew that Delita was also helping Ivalice. By helping Agrias to protect the princess, Ramza knew he was fulfilling the spirit of the name he had shunned.  
  
(I'm as tense as her. . .) Ramza thought, finding some humor to dull the anxiety that had accompanied the tension. A nervous chuckle escaped from him. Feeling his thoughts center on the Agrias, Ramza felt himself growing confused as he began to arrange the snippets of interpretations and questions concerning the Holy Knight. Images of her angry and stoic visage were outnumbered by the other faces he had seen her display. (At least I got her to laugh,) Ramza noticed, happy now, the shivering beginning to dissipate, forgetting that her moments of lightheartedness were all at his expense.  
  
Taking a small break from contemplating the world around him, and inevitably bearing the burden for so many things out of his control, Ramza thought back to the times he had seen Agrias being tender to the chocobos.  
  
***  
  
In Alicia's and Lavian's half of the suite, both were already asleep, neatly squared away in their wall-mounted beds. The princess' room was lit only by a single candle now: Agrias'. Ovelia was already asleep, having changed into bedclothes. The princess wasn't exhausted from ride, but the mounting mental strain sapped her energy. Agrias was also tired, but she could not go to sleep. Finally retiring the attempt to organize everything that would be going on tomorrow in her head, Agrias tried to relax enough to sleep. The irony was not appreciated.  
  
While the princess had been given the large bed in the room, Agrias had taken a cot and placed it by the doorway, as if to guard the entrance, the final line of defense should an assailant make it past her remaining knights. Even as she took this precaution, Agrias had not locked the room to Alicia and Lavian. It irritated her a little that she would take such half-hearted measures.  
  
Irritation turned to a strong disturbance as a topic would not leave Agrias be. It was something that fascinated her and also infuriated her. (Ramza,) she concluded. Curling up underneath her linen blanket, wearing an oversized tunic as a nightshirt, Agrias felt too resigned to scowl. She didn't even care as she let a mewl escape her. Feeling that she wanted as little turmoil as possible on this night, Agrias gave up the fight and let her imagination do as they will.  
  
As she drifted away, Agrias saw herself in her mind's eye, talking to Ramza. It was that night in Dorter again, and as the two figures in her mind conversed in silent words, the only other detail she noticed was that they held hands.  
  
***  
  
***January 5th, Year 2. Zaland Fort City***  
  
Morning found Ramza awake before it had arrived. Having already eaten, Ramza was dressed. Changing his mind, Ramza had visited the armory to have his damaged cuirass looked over. The deep purple-dyed bronze armor had not been repaired. It had simply been patched, providing temporary restoration of coverage. The pieces of welded metal were dull, without luster, so as to not attract attention -more than it already did. He was returning to his room to ready the rest of his belongings.  
  
He decided that he would not wake the others. They needed the rest, and even if Agrias argued against it, he knew that she agreed that the extra sleep was necessary. Hypocrisy or saving face, Ramza didn't care. It made sense, and it helped take some of Agrias' personal burden.  
  
The sword smith had confirmed his opinion; his weaponry was in need of repair. A battle or more of the same caliber as he had recently fought, and Ramza's equipment would begin to fail. Ramza could see where the mithril sword he used had been wearing away, the edge becoming visibly uneven.  
  
Briefly, Ramza wondered about everyone else's materials. Taking a mental note, Ramza decided that he would bring this up to Agrias once they reached Lionel Castle.  
  
"G'morning Ramza!" Mustadio's cheery voice came from behind him.  
  
A little surprised, Ramza turned around and gestured for the mechanic to be quiet. "They need more sleep."  
  
The mechanic shrugged. "Didn't mean any harm." As his stomach growled, Ramza only pointed him down the hallway, towards the stairs, which lead up to the mess. "When do we leave?" the mechanic asked as an afterthought.  
  
"Too soon. . ." Ramza said to himself.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Some time before noon," Ramza said louder. Giving the suite's closed door a sidelong glance, Ramza went into his room.  
  
***  
  
The morning preparations were dull in the sense that nothing out of the ordinary happened. Everyone was thankful.  
  
When Agrias had gone to wake Ramza up herself, she found his room devoid of everything that had marked his presence. He was gone, his belongings were gone, and the beddings and furniture was as before Ramza set down his things after being shown to his room along with her. Yet, Agrias found herself trying to smell the room's air, disappointed when even his scent was gone. (You weren't sleeping next to him last night. . .) her mind threw in, already souring her morning.  
  
Still a little surprised, Agrias dismissed the matter, concentrating on getting her subordinates ready.  
  
"Where's Mr. Ruglia?" Ovelia asked her as she stood outside the room's doorway.  
  
"I think he's already prepared," Agrias replied. As her back was to the princess, she missed the odd look Ovelia gave her.  
  
***  
  
Agrias found Ramza as everyone had assembled. Everyone was mounted on a chocobo. All had standard saddles, meant for comfort, not for utility in combat. Agrias quickly realized that no one there was cavalry. The chocobo would serve as rapid transportation, not as a weapons platform. Ramza had a plain chocobo as his mount, the lavender Windfall in tow. Finding herself disappointed when he did not greet her with his usual smile, Agrias remembered who was with them: a detachment of Lionel soldiers. She appreciated keeping up some protocol between the two of them, wishing that such displays wasn't necessary.  
  
There were three baggage chocobo this time, one from their group lugged their supplies, another had their escort's provisions, and the last one carried messages from Zaland and the northern villages, being sent down towards the heart of Lionel.  
  
Agrias' group was the centre, the geomancer and two archers serving as the van, while an archer with two squires were the rear. Not an impressive force militarily, but enough to ward off any highway bandits that may exist.  
  
Letting the geomancer do his job as their guide, Agrias simply lead her group, her chocobo besides Boco, whom Ovelia rode on. Lavian, Alicia, and Ramza were right behind them, towing the cargo-laden chocobo, Windfall forgotten, in between the center and the rear, having only Mustadio as company.  
  
The group experienced one problem. Not everyone's saddle was properly fitted, and both rider and chocobo suffered discomfort. Agreeing with the geomancer, Agrias had the group stop at the ruins of a church. Without being asked, the archers fanned out taking posts, leaving the geomancer and the squires to secure the harnesses properly this time. The stable hands would receive a stern reprimand when word came to Zaland.  
  
***  
  
Agrias was pleased at the distance the Lionel soldiers gave Ovelia. It was as if those soldiers did not notice the Royal guard at all. Besides Ovelia, Agrias stood in front of the fallen church's door. The place may have been a thriving village at one point, this church would've been a centerpoint. But, something happened, be it war, famine, or plague -some mix of the three, Agrias thought cynically, and the people were no longer there. A few foundations still stood, and the front arch of the church's façade still stood, a collection of tombstones in a viridian graveyard of overrun rubble.  
  
Wisely, Agrias kept her thoughts to herself. As she noticed Ovelia begin to look towards her, the silence beginning to grow uncomfortable, Agrias tried to start a conversation. Pointing towards their destination, obscured by yet another range, Agrias spoke. "Princess Ovelia," she addressed her war, "see? Lionel Castle is over that mountain."  
  
Almost indifferent, within her own thoughts, Ovelia nodded, keeping from shrugging. "Its still far from this fort," she commented, thinking this was an old base.  
  
(It probably was,) Agrias thought.  
  
"I wonder if Cardinal Draclau will really helps us?" Ovelia brought up.  
  
It wasn't a question that should've appeared, since Agrias had gone over this before. The Holy Knight knew that Ovelia would still be doubtful. It wasn't as if she could scold a princess after all. Settling for gentle repetition, Agrias replied with an answer already given some time ago. "I hear Cardinal Draclau is very loyal to the royal family." Her tone was as casual as she could make it while still being polite. "Right now, he's neutral in the dispute between Prince Larg and Prince Goltana," she continued, being docile in her statement. "I'm sure he wouldn't defeat justice by turning you over to either of them."  
  
"I hope so. . ." Ovelia murmured, still distracted. Agrias noticed her continuing to stare at a tree, alone on a small hill.  
  
Agrias knew that Ovelia was putting some of the blame on herself. Of all people, Agrias was knowledgeable of how that felt. (Where's it written that compassion and conscience follows logic?)  
  
Ovelia began to walk towards the small hill, the crest of which was not even taller than Agrias. Others would've considered it impolite, Agrias knew Ovelia needed the distraction, and she was obviously troubled if she was as unaware as she was now.  
  
"Besides," Agrias continued, "he is a man of popularity at Glabados Church. They'll accept you if the cardinal asks them." For a moment, Agrias wondered why she was getting so involved in state affairs. (Somehow, if this turns into a three-way war between Larg, Goltana, and the Church, I'm going to be partially responsible.)  
  
"I wish I weren't a princess."  
  
"Princess Ovelia. . ." Agrias replied, her sympathy beginning to be balance out by exasperation as to how nothing she said seemed to make an impact on Ovelia. (Almost like how some people leech off sympathy. . .)  
  
***  
  
Ramza had helped them adjust the harnesses and saddles properly onto the chocobos, and was returning to tell Agrias and Ovelia that it was time to leave; he had already told Alicia and Lavian, and they told him that they'd trust him to escort them back. Ramza was still thinking as to what they meant by that as he walked through the church's rubble. Without knowing it, Ramza almost kneeled as he entered the ruin, and he automatically crossed himself.  
  
He heard Agrias' voice, beginning to see her past the church's open doorway, below the barren arch. He opened his mouth to call out to them, but as he began to make out words, he had the urge to stay silent.  
  
Feeling conflicted, Ramza walked quietly besides the doorway, staying on the other side, listening in.  
  
***  
  
Hearing Ovelia sigh as the princess picked at the leaves of the tree, Agrias had a feeling she knew what would be coming.  
  
"I was always surrounded by the convent walls. . ." Ovelia began, in a reflective voice, one that belied strain, "and have only seen the sky through them." She continued to talk with her back to Agrias. "I don't think you know, but I was at another monastery before I went to Orbonne."  
  
Which would make sense, Agrias concluded. Most likely she had been sent to a convent instead. (Which made a convenient bank to keep daddy's little unwanted girl 'innocent') Agrias cynically thought, finding that she made a pun.  
  
Taking Agrias' silence as cue to continue, Ovelia talked louder, gaining confidence. "Even after hearing about the adoption by the deceased king," Ovelia referred to the dead Denamunda, whom Agrias never had any warm feelings for. Loyalty was one thing, devotion was another, "I stayed there for a long time." Ovelia paused, "No, I'm not complaining about that. Just. . ." another pause, "people are dying because I'm the princess."  
  
(It took her this long to get that out. . .) Agrias wondered.  
  
"It's so painful," Ovelia said simply.  
  
Suppressing the sigh, Agrias tried to straighten out Ovelia. "Please don't blame yourself," Agrias told her. "Its not your fault. Those who are trying to take advantage of you are the ones to blame." It was sincere, though not as clear as Agrias wanted to be.  
  
Again, Ovelia changed the subject. "I met a girl at Orbonne. She said she had also been living in the monastery since birth. We used to laugh at how similar our lives has been," Ovelia said, sounding rueful, a light, though sad tone evident in her voice. Nostalgia was what Agrias would've called it. "Isn't it funny?"  
  
Through this, Agrias had been thinking back to the dossier they had given her about the princess. "She was the daughter of the Beoulves, Miss Alma, wasn't she?"  
  
Ovelia nodded. "She is my only friend. . ." Agrias winced at that. "I wonder if Draclau would use me?"  
  
That set Agrias thinking. (Well, I have heard only good things about him, but, what's that worth?) ". . ."  
  
"Ramza!" Mustadio's voice yelled out, causing Agrias to whirl.  
  
(He's here?!) Agrias thought, wondering why she didn't sense anyone nearby, (Some guard I am. . .) her mind spat out, before being annoyed at the notion that Ramza -of all people, would be spying on her. (If he wanted to join us, he should have just have come out and told. . .)  
  
"Where are you?" the other youth continued, causing Agrias to regret why she didn't like the idea of multiple males -adolescent males, around. "Shall we go?!"  
  
Agrias spied the mechanic through the doorway. Giving Ovelia a look back, Agrias walked into the church As if to snub Ramza, she refused to even acknowledge his presence even as she saw him give her an apologetic glance. (All he has to do is say something. . .) Agrias told herself, (then I'll acknowledge what he wants.)  
  
"What have you been doing here?" Mustadio asked Ramza.  
  
"How was it?" Agrias asked the mechanic, wondering if the nuisance was worth anything.  
  
"Fine," Mustadio told her. "It doesn't seem like the Hokuten has been here yet," he reported, bringing information from the Lionel soldiers that had ringed the area.  
  
Now Agrias gave Ramza a look as if to say, 'did he have to know that?'  
  
Agrias' senses were tweaked when she heard a small noise from where Ovelia was. It sounded like an instrument. . . a poor instrument.  
  
Ramza beat her in going out the door, and he even walked up to Ovelia, making Agrias curious.  
  
Ovelia looked embarrassed as she noticed Ramza looking at her, less than a pace away. "My friend taught me before," she said dejectedly, "but I can't seem to do it right."  
  
Ramza gave her a small smile, one that Agrias caught even from the church's doorway.  
  
"This is how you do it," he told Ovelia cheerfully, taking some leaves of his own from the tree. The sound he produced by blowing through the leaves wasn't what Agrias called music, but it was distraction enough.  
  
It got the princess to smile, even if it was at Ramza.  
  
"Like this?" the princess remarked, trying it for herself. Her instrument's bleat was smaller and more shrill, but she was happy. "There! I did it."  
  
Not caring what the Lionel soldiers would think of the delay, Agrias let Ovelia continue to practice with the 'reed flute' the princess took a liking too. (Whatever keeps the gloom' n' doom attitude away,) she thought. When she noticed Mustadio shrugging as she turned to look at the mechanic, Agrias wished that she was there too. (No sense intruding in their fun,) Agrias told herself. (Why don't you?) she asked herself. ('All you have to do is come out and ask') her inner voice paraphrased Agrias' earlier thoughts. Still, Agrias stood there, compelled to watch, unable to step up and voice what she wanted.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Yes, its a small collection of scenes. Not quite vignettes, though.  
  
Not meaning to insult anyone here, but emphasis was on Ramza and Agrias' budding relationship, and how they have some space to think now that there is the artificial wall imposed between them again. Not love at first sight, oh no. . .  
  
Be it a good thing or a bad thing, I'm prone to repetition, so redundancies are blatant and intentional.  
  
Also, no battle scenes in this one. The Bariaus Hill battle (next chapter) will be different from the game:  
  
Ramza and crew have escorts, plus they are all on chocobo. Granted they have to dismount to fight, the terrain issue will be less of a concern since the chocobos can tackle the jags.  
  
Why the escort? Since Agrias wants to seek shelter from Draclau, it'd make sense for her to make early contact with the Lionel soldiers to send word ahead. A single trained courier (or a tame steel hawk?) would be able to relay their demands faster than traveling there and surprising them all at once. Also, the Zaland-based soldiers would never leave a royal party unguarded. Not only does Draclau openly support the royal family, but its what duty to the crown demands.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
To the guy/s I've offended - explain! Was it I was abrasive? That I did not agree with 'yuri-content'? The fact that I can't really address what someone did in their game as relevant to the storyline? (I've already decided against turning him into a dragoon, full-on at least. Thanks for THAT input. Yet, I don't know how to respond to comments about what class Ramza is on your save.)  
  
Unable to take criticism? Damn right! Give them to me and I shall try to rationalize WHY(read: excuses, excuses, Marsha-Marsha-Marsha!). Ping me with something I can't dispute or justify - Kudos to you!  
  
Pardon the lack of battle scenes. Right now, the effort invested into them is half-hearted to begin with and they ruin the flow of the storyline. All the battles will still remain, but I'm still deciding on how to tackle things.  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
***Intermission***  
  
Mounted on her chocobo and on the road again, Agrias checked herself from laughing. One on hand, she was annoyed at what had happened, but on the other she couldn't help but find it one of the funniest things that she had ever witnessed.  
  
Failing to keep a straight face, Agrias glanced over at Ovelia, beyond whom was Ramza. Both had sullen looks. Dejected expressions that matched the puffiness of their lips, swollen and engorged.  
  
"Well," Agrias remarked, trying not to burst out laughing, "at least everyone knows that those leaves will give you a rash."  
  
"Mrm-mrmph. . ." Ramza muttered.  
  
Unable to hold it in anymore, Agrias doubled over laughing.  
  
***Intermission*** 


	9. 08 Senseless Involvement

***Author's Notes***  
  
Well, here's the battle scene that's due. Prepare to be disappointed, seeing as it isn't my main focus.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-08 "Senseless Involvement" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 08)  
  
***  
  
***January 5th, Year 2. Bariaus Hill***  
  
The riders that have been waiting for Agrias' group had been visible for several minutes now. Like her own people, they too rode on chocobo. Atop the jagged crest of the cubic hill, the riders' posturing indicated that they were waiting for her group specifically.  
  
After first spotting them, the geomancer leading the escort doubled back from the van and asked her, "If you wish, my people can slow them down. . ."  
  
"That's not an option," Ramza told him, clucking his chocobo forwards to pace the leaders. "If you can't take them by yourselves, they are bound to catch with us."  
  
"What's wrong?" Ovelia asked, chiming in, wincing as she shaded her eyes and tried to take a better look at the foreboding hill. They were already in the southern highlands of Lionel, and hill it may be, it did dominate the flat terrain atop the ridge they were on.  
  
"There's someone waiting for us," Agrias told her, being blunt. "We can't get around them." Leaning forwards to address the geomancer, she told him, "There's still some time before we reach them. Keep the pace we have now, and see if you can get your people ready." (Only thing we can do,) Agrias did not say. Her voice soft, she asked Ramza. "How is your injury?"  
  
Plainly, he replied, "My arm is healed, but I can't use a bow for some time."  
  
(At least he's not apologizing for it,) Agrias thought. "Do what you are able," she told him.  
  
"I can ride," he told her. After giving her a small nod, Ramza made his chocobo slow down and turned around to face the rear guard trio of Lionel soldiers, as well as the others in his group. Gesturing, he indicated for them to form up and get ready for a briefing and preparation.  
  
The briefing, there was none: get ready for a fight. The preparation: same difference, get ready, there is no real plan. Before leaving Zaland, everyone had prepared themselves for action. Even though they couldn't fight when mounted, the chocobos would serve to augment their mobility as well as serve as a back up, should it come to that.  
  
(Should it come to that. . .) Agrias pondered, her instinct telling her that there was a battle up ahead. "I can ride. . ." she repeated softly, to herself, before her eyes lit up in realization. Afraid suddenly, she looked towards Ramza, who had taken the riderless Windfall with him. (No. . . you won't do that. . . you can't.)  
  
Agrias' inner doubts just laughed at her. (But. . . you promised,) she thought, confused, duty and emotions beginning to conflict.  
  
***  
  
Time flew as their chocobos walked them ever closer to the base of the hill. The van and the rear guard had turned into the flanks, as the geomancer took his two mounted archers to the right, and his remaining archer took the two squires to the left. Appropriately, at the sides of the hill, were a single mounted mage each from the opposing group.  
  
The all-too-familiar horned bandanas spelled a sense of doom, punctuated by the three armored swordsmen -knights for all intents and purposes and two archers -all of whom also on chocobo, holding the hill itself. Agrias wondered if the posturing was a trap. (Why are the summoners at that flank?) Agrias pondered, wondering if the enemy commander was brilliant, or an ass.  
  
Her worse fears were realized. The entire enemy group showed an ease in the saddle that hinted at expertise.  
  
"Cavalry," Ramza told her as they reached the base of the hill. "Even the summoner women know how to ride."  
  
"Cavalry mages? Never ran into any of those. . ."  
  
"There was never a demand," Ramza replied. "Too fragile for the field." Agrias was unsettled by the almost-eager light in his eyes, his 'innocent' face possessing a dark edge now, turning from pleasant to stoic.  
  
His assessment sealed her decision. A fight was obvious. Even if Agrias ordered her people to run, they would be caught. These 'bandits' were too well equipped to be mere mercenaries. All that was missing from their clothing and equipment were noble crests. For a moment she thought they were the Hokuten, until the head 'knight' rode down halfway the hill and addressed them.  
  
"I don't know who you are," he addressed them confidently. Drawing his sword he pointed over past her left shoulder. "Leave the boy with us!" he demanded.  
  
As Ramza took an audible breath -a growl, not a gasp, Agrias understood. She did not look over her shoulder to where the 'knight' pointed to know it was Mustadio they wanted. Agrias damned the pledge made towards the mechanic.  
  
"We don't want to fight!" the man continued, challenging them. "Hand Mustadio over and there won't be any trouble, ok?" he finished, almost imperious.  
  
Ramza lead his chocobo to the fore, with Windfall in tow. Mustadio followed, stopping his chocobo several paces to the left with Ramza. On the young mechanic's face was a look of terror mixed with defiance; resistance towards those who wanted him, and fear at the possible rejection of those who would shelter him.  
  
Keeping herself calm as she denied the man's claim, Agrias spoke loud, the anger in her voice more feigned that it was real. "Why don't you leave quietly!" she demanded in return. "Tell Rudvich we'll fight anyone who tries to use war to sway the people!"  
  
The 'knight' was taken aback, confused as the name of his employer was disclosed by his prey. He immediately turned his chocobo around and began to go up the hill. Agrias realized as the other 'knights' also readied their chocobos, that the man was going to charge downhill and trample them.  
  
On the right flank herself, Agrias had left Ovelia behind, guarded by Alicia and Lavian.  
  
"Then I guess we take him by force!" the 'knight' yelled from uphill. "Here goes!" he cried, turning his chocobo and adjusting himself in the saddle, willed his mount to charge.  
  
***  
  
True to form, Ramza was the first to go forwards. Leaning into his chocobo, he directed his mount to charge up hill, parallel to the enemy bearing down upon them all.  
  
Agrias had made her decision before it came to this point. As Alicia and Lavian retreated with the princess, she moved forwards to cover Ramza. This time she had a reason to get involved. Like it or not, Mustadio was under Princess Ovelia's hospitality.  
  
Surprising the first of those charging downhill, Ramza bypassed the man-at-arms, instead making a beeline straight for the mounted archers already taking aim from where they were perched on their chocobos. The hesitation the man-at-arms displayed gave Agrias the opening she wanted. As the two archers up hill fire their ranging shots, striking near her, either marking her as their target, or calibrating their shooting, Agrias targeted the one who had made the demands, the one who hesitated. Rather, as the man turned his chocobo around, Agrias had decided to target the animal he rode upon.  
  
Feeling for the chocobo's presence, Agrias said in her mind, (The devil's spirit of restlessness. . . Split Punch!) Even as Agrias pointed her sword at the animal, the attack did emanate from her blade, but instead the air around the chocobo warped before compressing, hammering the chocobo.  
  
It was enough to send the chocobo tumbling. Since it was already charging downhill, the chocobo began to roll forwards, and along with it, rolled its rider. The man let out a cry that was cut short as his head struck the rocky terrain, his neck bent by the Chocobo's rolling mass.  
  
Agrias did not even stop to consider her dead foe, instead focusing on supporting Ramza.  
  
Undeclared, it was the two of them that would go after the conventional elements on the hill while the split group Lionel soldiers, who had taken the flanks, would engage the mounted summoners.  
  
Agrias would have considered such division in the face of the enemy suicide had the situation been presented to her in a questioning manner. Charging uphill, there was no retreat from that, while the Lionel soldiers could simply break and spread out, hoping to focus the summoner's efforts on as few of them as possible. (I'm committed to this,) Agrias thought, trying to dispel her doubts.  
  
It was too late to pray for audacity, aggression, and the ability to take the initiative would decide the battle for the two of them.  
  
Fatalistically, as the archers' next volley barely missed her, falling short and falling high, Agrias thought to herself, (At least they'll spare the princess. . . they're only after the boy. . .)  
  
Her chocobo was nervous, only continuing forwards, but conditioning was beginning to lose against the fear of being fired at, almost of being hunted. Agrias wondered briefly if she would share the fate of the man she had just downed.  
  
***  
  
Ramza saw Windfall take a shot at the archers, forcing them to flee, but their reactionary volley forced the chocobo to glide off the hill, to the left flank; Ramza was alone now.  
  
From Ramza's perspective, the battle had given him a quickening. His sense of awareness was heightened, as his presence of mind almost began to exceed his body, which began to feel sluggish, as if the still air around him was now acting as a restrictive fluid, almost as thick as water.  
  
He did not fool himself. He knew that time flowed normally, that while he was more aware, his body was just as slow. Keeping his excitement to himself, Ramza only willed his chocobo to charge harder, leaning forwards to put his momentum where it would serve him, giving him a shorter silhouette as well as making his chocobo and himself more stable as they continued to surge uphill.  
  
Ramza noticed the sky begin to change and he heard the crackle of thunder as he saw the apparition of a massive old man with a cane unleashed his wrath upon some miserable targets below. Knowing that he could not help them, Ramza only continued forwards, bringing all of his attention to his current opponents and their actions.  
  
The second armored rider ignored him, as did the third one who rode in his partner's wake. Ramza exploited that as Ramza cut across the hill, knowing that Agrias would be mowed down in the two's approach. Unable to catch up with the second man, Ramza opted to engage the third, and again. At the man's rear, the armored rider could not turn and fight him unless he risked losing control and tumbling down the hillside. As he hesitated, Ramza thrust his sword forwards, digging his blade deep into the man's chocobo. Again, the chocobo died, sending its rider rolling down the hillside. The man was alive at that point, but would not be by the time his body reached the foot of the hill.  
  
Armor protected one from physical impact, so long as it wasn't your own body that was being the hammer upon the anvil that was the rough terrain.  
  
The second man hadn't noticed, but Ramza chose not to pursue, instead trying to work up to the same momentum he had as he begun his initial charge.  
  
It didn't matter if the second 'knight' died if Agrias and him died because of the archers up above. A point that was reinforced in Ramza's mind as Agrias scream reached his ears. Ramza did not ignore her cries. If anything, it added more clarity to his mind, allowing him to focus as much of his anger on those who had hurt her.  
  
***  
  
Agrias just stared as Ramza continued upwards, wondering how she would take the one he had let go as he bore down upon her. Numbly, the arrow embedded in her upper right chest causing her agony, Agrias prepared herself to meet the man's blow, trying to ride to the right of a tree, praying the obstacle would force the man to lose his momentum as he turned to engage her.  
  
It was then that she noticed, as she tried to lift her sword, that the strength in that arm was gone. As she lost her grip, Agrias noticed that she could see the hatred in her opponent's eyes. Dimly, she raised her shield, as if that alone would save her.  
  
***  
  
As two arrows, hastily fired in his direction came past him, Ramza knew that he had been too late. He committed himself to fulfilling his objective: to annihilate the archers uphill. He knew what had happened to Agrias, but Ramza knew it was pointless to worry at this point. What he could help, he would accomplish, what he wouldn't, he would mourn at a later time. Right now was the time to minimize the amount of lamentation, regret, and sorrow he would feel after the battle was over, win or die.  
  
The two archers chose to turn away, abandoning their post at the crest of the hill to flee as he closed upon them; they would not have had the time to let loose another volley before he was upon them, and there were only two ways down the cubical hill: through the opposite side, or through Ramza. He had a sword, they only had daggers as reserves.  
  
Mercilessly, Ramza pursued. He felt a small release as he heard the familiar loud report of Mustadio's weapon reach the hilltop he now rode through. Ramza prayed for the first time in over a year.  
  
***  
  
Agrias scarcely hesitated as she saw the man who was about to slay her crumple in the saddle. As the swing of his weapon lost power and became predictable, Agrias easily parried his sword, working through her pain to smite her opponent, backhanding him with her shield, knocking him off the ground.  
  
Startled, Agrias was fortunate that her feet were no longer on the stirrups as the fallen's man chocobo took revenge for its master.  
  
***  
  
It was a slaughter at that point for Ramza. Panicking, the enemy archers had tried to flee. They were skilled riders, but they did not push their chocobo to the limits Ramza now exhorted his mount.  
  
The pursuit was without guilt, without mercy, and without remorse.  
  
The first archer was run through the back with a series of shallow stabs, his chocobo dragging the corpse by the boots still hooked onto the chocobo's stirrups. Ramza did not finish his series of jabs until the man's head touched the ground. The second archer had turned, discarding his bow, presumably to offer surrender as Ramza decapitated him and his chocobo in one sweep. It was not a clean cut for either rider or chocobo as gravity tore the remaining skin of their necks.  
  
Grimly, Ramza did not study the cadavers he had created. He had intended to slay and he slew. Now he would leave the slain behind. He had care only for those still on this mortal plane.  
  
He was long since tired of the demands the dead placed on the living.  
  
(Mustadio's protecting her,) Ramza rationalized, before returning to the crest of the hill to survey the rest of the battle. First though, he spared a look downhill.  
  
***  
  
Agrias kneeled in the shadow of the tree that she had used to save her life. In the shade, she shivered. At her feet lay the corpse of the second rider's chocobo. As the chocobo tried to protect its master, her own chocobo had come to her aid, engaging the other bird. What followed was the real version of a bloodsport banned in Ivalice. Resorting to their talons, the two chocobos went at each other, almost taking into the air as they used their massive talons to claw the other to death. Agrias had taken the fallen man's sword and lunged forwards, finding the opening she needed, stabbing the chocobo's body through its wing.  
  
Now she lay under the shade of her tree, not even cringing as she heard Mustadio fire another shot, in another direction, to her right. She was already shivering.  
  
She focused now on the fastest healing spell she knew, enveloping both her and her chocobo, who sported its own set of wounds. Fortunately, the arrow had not embedded itself deep, the pain greater than the damage, Agrias hoped.  
  
Somberly, her chocobo assisted her again, casting its own curative spell, draping its unwounded left wing over hear.  
  
As it cooed to soothe her, Agrias found that she could not really receive the chocobo's sympathy. Not after what she had done. It made her hate herself. (I feel remorse for killing a bird, but not a human. . .) she wondered. (Duty before compassion,) she told herself, wondering if she would repeat it as a mantra.  
  
Looking up, she saw Ramza reach the crest of the hill from the other side. She prayed that he would not surprise her and turn around, perhaps to display an arrow embedded in his back, just before he- (Stop that!) Agrias raged.  
  
The distance was not that great now that their part of the battle was over. What seemed like eternity's length seemed so insignificant. She could see his face, looking back down at her.  
  
The impassive expression he had scared her as it always had, even as his eyes softened upon seeing her. For a moment, Agrias wondered if she saw what those who stood against him faced.  
  
Weakly, she tried to wave back, but already his attention was elsewhere. Accepting that as him fulfilling his duty, Agrias let Ramza be, thinking that he was unharmed, wondering now about the others.  
  
She had seen the flashes, heard the loud noises caused by the summoners' casting, but she had not viewed the effects. Agrias noticed something as she tried to get a grasp of the situation from where she was sheltered:  
  
The silence was deafening.  
  
***  
  
"They stay as they lay. . ." Agrias said plainly, knowing what Ramza would tell them, as Alicia and Lavian came up to them worriedly. Agrias felt some sympathy for them. Thrusting oneself upon the abyss was difficult, but watching someone else do so without you being able to do anything had its own share of torment.  
  
The quicker they left here and found reinforcements, the better. If the enemy had reserves, they would've been foolish not to have used them.  
  
Everyone still living assembled, the butcher's bill was tallied.  
  
One summoner was slain, the other captured wounded -she had surrendered, but the Lionel troops had taken considerable casualties. The survivor was bound, stripped of the magical robes she wore, and silenced by herbs so that she could not cast.  
  
The mages were fragile, a single arrow being enough to dispatch each one, but they had taken Lionel soldiers with them to the next realm. No one questioned why one woman's corpse had been mutilated by one of the dead squires' swords, even though the only survivor from that group was an archer. Not a single query was asked as the archer came back, leading the surviving chocobo from that group, his arms blooded to the elbows, and gore having been spattered across his front.  
  
The geomancer's section had lost one of its two archers, before Windfall and Mustadio had caused her to drop her staff as she was dropped by the choco ball that struck her in the leg.  
  
The two squires and archer died with their chocobos, instantly slain by the sheer destructive power of the summoned monsters called upon by the summoners.  
  
It was no surprise that Agrias was the only one with wounds. Those on the receiving end of a summoner's wrath rarely survived the encounter.  
  
Ovelia simply stared, having forced herself to watch the small bloodbath that had transpired before her; a conflict and a butchering of humans and chocobo caused by her decision to protect a boy. Her conviction was never in question, but Ovelia had a little more of her innocence and belief burned out of her.  
  
As Agrias' wound was being attended to, Ramza signaled the group to move ahead, the geomancer forming up the van with his two surviving archers, Mustadio and Windfall taking the rear.  
  
He turned his attention back to the corpses now, wondering what their remains -belongings, would reveal to him. He took a spare chocobo from the dead mercenaries, the one that had belonged to the slain summoner. Putting sensibilities aside, Ramza knew it was stupid to leave so much arms behind on the field. It wasn't like Orbonne Monastery, where he knew someone he could trust would secure the equipment.  
  
***  
  
Their pace had slowed considerably. Everyone, chocobos included, were exhausted. It was slow to the point where everyone but Ovelia had dismounted and were leading the giant birds as they walked to the next waypoint.  
  
Ramza was with Agrias, who had taken a single look at the equipment he had gathered and shunned him.  
  
Everyone was stressed, physically, and now, as they had opportunity to fall back on thoughts and emotions not related to killing and survival, began to tear themselves apart from the inside. Truth be told, he did not mind having her angry at him. (The more she hates me, the less she hates herself,) Ramza rationalized, wondering why he did not believe himself.  
  
"Lionel soldiers," Agrias and Ramza announced simultaneously, spotting the banner approaching them in the distance.  
  
"Reinforcements," the geomancer grunted indifferently. "They must have seen Ramuh. . ."  
  
***  
  
"Follow us, the posting house is just an hour's ride away." the lancer leading the group of cavalry that had gone to investigate told them.  
  
Lavian had taken the initative and given the man their traveling papers.  
  
"Ah. . . we'll see to this," the armored lancer told them, his eyes widening as he recognized the princess. "You can tell the commander what happened when we get to the posting house. Its alright now. . ." he said without conviction.  
  
Ramza looked towards Agrias as the woman kept silent, an expression of anger marring her façade.  
  
***  
  
Ramza looked upon the new batch of soldiers escorting them. A real cavalry complement this time. Four lancers with four archers. He had always known that bowmen and spearmen had an easier time on a chocobo than swordsmen. Knights were strong on the ground, but on chocobo, the archers and lancers dominated them.  
  
Again, he looked towards Agrias, who was quietly riding alongside Ovelia. (If I feel that we could've done something by requesting a larger escort, even if we had no reason to expect someone to come after Mustadio so blatantly, what is she experiencing?)  
  
***  
  
The journey to the posting house was quiet, and the geomancer excused himself as soon as they got there, moving off to report.  
  
It was stupefying to see how the Lionel soldiers were acting.  
  
The lancer that lead them there had sent an archer racing ahead to deliver some of the news, and before Agrias' group had arrived, an outbound contingency of troops had passed them, with them a cart towed by two oversize chocobo.  
  
"Meat wagon. . ." Alicia had murmured.  
  
***  
  
New chocobos had been swapped out from the ones they had used at Zaland this morning. They were supposed to have bypassed this posting house and delivered the chocobos straight to Lionel Castle, but they had no choice.  
  
The posting house was a fort left over from the war, still having a respectable garrison. The living tenements for the soldiers were built along the wooden walls and the important structures were arrayed in the middle.  
  
Ramza took the captured chocobo he had laden with salvaged equipment to the blacksmith / armory of the 'posting-fort'. He told the man there that he did not want to haggle about prices, that he just wanted to make sure the weapons did not fall into the wrong hands.  
  
"Take the money Ramza," Agrias told him without tone, coming into view. "Ovelia's with Alicia and Lavian," she answered his question before he could voice it. (I've no choice but to trust the soldiers here,) she told him with her eyes.  
  
As Ramza remained silent, the blacksmith gave him a pouch of coins. "Its worth several thousand gils at the least, boy, I'm not questioning you."  
  
Agrias hesitated, wondering if she should leave. Steeling herself, Agrias did as what her duty as a knight and conscience as a person demanded. "I. . . I shouldn't have put any of my problems on you Ramza." She held his gaze with her own. "There's no shame in this. Its just my pride." She walked towards him, uncomfortable as he just stood there, gazing at her. "You deserve this," she told him, "if just for doing the right thing."  
  
She was thankful that the blacksmith had gone and taken some of the items to be examined at a table in the back, able to hear them, but not listening.  
  
"I understand," Ramza told her. "But, if there's anything that I can do to ease your burden. . ."  
  
"Even if I'm the one who's wrong?"  
  
"Until you see the truth or until you allow me to show you my truth."  
  
Some of the sorrow that Agrias felt began to melt. The same regrets she had at the battle -the lack of soldiers to deter an attack, or at least counter those damned summoners, were still there, but problems concerning him were being eased. Instead of politely refusing his statement, Agrias responded with, "Do you mean that?" Her voice held a note of hope, of vulnerability, of confusion.  
  
"Yes," he answered simply.  
  
Agrias reached out to touch him, but she was startled when she realized that they were still clad in armor, a reminder of reality that cut her moment short. Ramza understood why she recoiled. Removing his toughened leather glove, he offered her his right hand. Mirroring the action with her left, Agrias grasped his bare hand with hers. Ignoring the sweat and the accompany smell, Agrias savored the simple physical contact, never questioning it, simply accepting and appreciating the sensations and emotions that flowed between them.  
  
Neither cared that they had shed blood just hours before. Neither was foolish enough to attach false sentiments to the act of killing another. It could never be justified. Yet, one had to live with the aftermath, going on with their existence, doing what they could to live with themselves.  
  
If there was something she needed now asides from absolution from her duties, it was human contact; someone to be there, someone who cared, someone who could offer and deliver what she desired, needed, and enjoyed.  
  
Ramza pointed with his left hand to the stables, and Agrias nodded, walking alongside him. "You want to make sure they get the saddles right this time?" It was a trite statement, but for this evanescent moment, Agrias knew that Ramza was giving her a brief reprieve from duty's mantle, which she understood was necessary for her continued well-being.  
  
"Of course," he replied gently, squeezing her hand softly, shifting his fingers as if to mold them to hers. If it wasn't for the armor they wore, Agrias would've embraced him. The dichotomy the boy represented began to become clearer to her, and Agrias accepted that revelation, yielding to what was becoming harder to deny. With that surrender, she allowed herself to revel in the present besides her cruel angel.  
  
***  
  
At the gates of Lionel Castle, Agrias rode her chocobo to the fore. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was deep to the west.  
  
The ride there had been easy; a full detachment of mounted soldiers escorted them: a knee-jerk reaction that Agrias had not opposed, even if the chocobo had already fled the barn. There had been little discussion, as the geomancer had been replaced by the lancer who had greeted them.  
  
Agrias still had her left hand bare, grasping her glove in her right hand along with the reins.  
  
On the outer wall of the castle, one of the knights on duty guarding portcullis spoke out. "Who are you?" he asked, "What do you want?"  
  
Mechanically, Agrias fell back on training and protocol. "I'm Agrias Oaks of the St. Konoe Knights," she announced, before following up with the code phrase. "I came from Orbonne to save the son of God, St. Ajora. Open the gate!"  
  
The knight nodded, confirming her identity and her mission. "Saving St. Ajora is the will of the high priest," he replied. "The gate will open for he who will save the high priest. Open the gate!"  
  
The portcullis barring the side entrance to the castle rose; it was only wide enough in the first place to accommodate two riders alongside on chocobo.  
  
As Agrias lead the way through, she wondered about what she felt as she passed the raised metal gate. (Catharsis,) she thought.  
  
***  
  
Agrias had immediately separated herself and Ovelia from the group even as the chocobos they rode were being received by the stable hands.  
  
She was surprised to see the cardinal waiting for her. The man carried himself in a dignified manner, noble in his casual and perceptive appearance. One could almost see mischief in his eyes. Where he was once a war hero of Lionel, now he was a member of the clergy, having turned from the art of war to the art of salvation.  
  
"Princess Ovelia," the old man told them, approaching the dismounted girl, "I welcome you." Agrias was not surprised when Draclau did not kneel before Ovelia, dipping his head forwards instead: the Church did not bow to the crown. No matter how allegiant Draclau was to the Atskascha line, duty to St. Ajora and the people in his station exceeded royal protocol. As the Church was to have no authority over the crown, so the crown would have no authority over the Church. The nod was symbolic of the almost-peer relationship between Church and State. As to why Draclau was in command of Lionel, he was serving the people, by extension providing service to Ivalice, not the crown alone.  
  
"Cardinal Draclau," Ovelia smoothly replied, her smile not reaching her eyes. She had seen too much that day to feel true relief, only resignation. "I appreciate your kindness."  
  
Draclau nodded, gesturing with his left hand to enter. The robes he wore were that of a churchman's, not a noble's. "Please, we have much to discuss, but first, let me offer you my hospitality. I understand that your trip was strenuous," he said gently, letting them know subtly that he had received information -from Agrias' message or otherwise, about their situation. "We will discuss your state visit -highness after you had a chance to rest. Please, you may rest easy now."  
  
Somehow, with those words, the burden Agrias had felt for the seemingly-eternal torment that was the last five days began to disappear.  
  
Ovelia's safety had yet to be assured, but Agrias now felt that responsibility was being taken from her hands: unstable, frail, and all-too- human.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
I'd understand if a lot of people didn't understand the subtler things in this scene. After all, it went from a battle scene to a rather 'romantic' (I don't know what else to classify it as) sequence. Nothing kinky implied, simply that Agrias is finally coming to terms with the dual purpose she serves as a Holy Knight, and the abolition of the self-hatred she has come to acquire because of duty.  
  
Ramza so much of a killer? I'd simply call it being efficient. Partially its because that's the angle I'm portraying him as. He may be a wuss, but the art of war has pretty much been bred (by birth) and ingrained (by the academy) into him. There would be no way that he would survive in the world if he grieved or regretted those he slew. Miluda was a different matter. . .  
  
Next up is the scene dealing with what goes on at Lionel Castle for the next two-three days.  
  
BTW, the scene title doesn't refer to Agrias and Ramza's budding relationship (wouldn't that be counter-productive. . .), but how associating Mustadio pulled them into such a fight.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
Hm, again, I have to ask you people, what do you think of Agrias? Or Ramza? Of the two of them together?  
  
Pardon the irregularity of the updates, and it'll continue until around January or some time past that.  
  
Not much else to say, except that I'm a little surprised that you actually find my half-assed battle scenes a good read. My main intent with this fic is the character-character emotional interaction and development. . . hope I haven't failed that motive.  
  
For the lovers of battles out there. the next scene is devoid of them, and I've just noticed. it's the first time the characters could actually take time to clean themselves (they've been in the field-on-and- off for five days). Not that I was considering writing a bath scene involving Agrias, Ovelia, Alicia, and Lavian. *cough*  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	10. 09 Ablutions

***Author's Notes***  
  
Pardon the shortness of this scene (a chunk of this is actual Author's Notes material. . .), and especially over the length of time (two- three weeks?) but with a headache from a fever-cold, I could not write.  
  
So I wrote it in separate bursts, which might explain a mood swing or two (of plot, not of characters).  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***  
  
Chapter 02-09 "Ablutions" v.1.0 (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 09)  
  
***Lionel Castle***  
  
The cardinal was kind enough to show them to their quarters personally. The conversation on the walk through the keep's corridors was trite, polite nothings that danced around the main issues.  
  
"Highness, I believe we can discuss your state visit before noon tomorrow," he told Ovelia, "would that be acceptable?"  
  
Politely, Ovelia nodded, herself feeling inadequate before the plain dignity Draclau emanated. "The chance to rest is appreciated," she told him, feeling the caked sweat on her face crack as she smiled wearily.  
  
Silently, Ramza, Alicia, Lavian, and lastly Mustadio just watched as the two talked.  
  
"I shall see just how pleasant I can make your retreat here. . ." Draclau then excused himself as he addressed Agrias. "There will be servants posted outside your quarters," he told her, "but your privacy will not be intruded upon."  
  
(Translation,) Agrias thought, (we'll be protected but they'll be leaving us alone.) "Milord," she replied simply as she bowed.  
  
Giving them a small nod, the cardinal walked away alone.  
  
Agrias felt lighter now, more and more of her burden being lifted away. (I need to unwind. . .) she thought, as she entered the room before Ovelia, as if to examine the room, even if there was little point in 'preparing the way' into their suite.  
  
The suite was large, to say the least. Cozy as well. The chill that would have permeated a room with stone walls was minimized by tapestries like at Zaland; these were also landscapes, but more elaborate. The stone floor was homely, with cloth rugs covering most of the floor's surface. The furniture was humble, but it was still there, unfinished, but the craftsmanship superb. The front room they were in was open, with tables and their chair set up along the walls.  
  
"At last, huh?" Alicia spoke up.  
  
"Yes, quite. . ." Ovelia agreed, pleased.  
  
***  
  
Taking the initiative, Ramza had gone to the stables, taking Alicia and Lavian with him to make sure that their cargo was properly looked after and delivered. They were to direct the porters as to what to bring to their quarters. Mustadio tagged along.  
  
Meanwhile, Agrias and Ovelia were alone in the suite, having nothing better to do. The tedium that was rest was incredible to Agrias. Now that she wasn't constantly thinking about anything, the lack of crisis and damage control was amazing. Agrias had already removed her armor, padding around barefoot and clad in her linen pants and tunic. Without her metal second skin, Agrias felt light again.  
  
(Wonder if my body's changed. . .) Agrias worried, remembering just the small discomfort she had with her armor as of late, besides the obvious penetration thereof. (I've been in constant action, and I'm thinking I've gotten fat?) Agrias realized, feeling silly. (Maybe I'll ask Ramza again. . .) she thought playfully, and Agrias noticed one more thing about herself: in the initiative lied comfort, a fact she did not appreciate.  
  
Ovelia was still stuck in her monastery robes, already stained a light beige by the dirt they had tracked on the ride here. It was obvious that she was eager to change into a fresh set of clothing.  
  
"He only gave us two bedrooms. . ." Ovelia remarked as Agrias and her went exploring their temporary home away from Lesalia or the monastery.  
  
Agrias blinked. The entry room lead into a bedroom, which lead to another bedroom; where Agrias and Ovelia would set up camp. The first bedroom would again serve as the buffer.  
  
"I wonder where Mr. Ruglia will stay?" Ovelia pondered  
  
"Oh. . ." Agrias said simply, confused. "With Mustadio, I guess."  
  
"I didn't remember the cardinal giving showing those two to their room, only ours. . ."  
  
***  
  
"Ah. . ." Ramza murmured after being asked where he will spend the night. Mustadio shrugged likewise, ignorant.  
  
"There's only two rooms," Agrias said uncomfortably, as if she was making an excuse. The stares of the three other females in the room were making her very self-conscious.  
  
She was disappointed when Ramza failed to look crestfallen.  
  
"I'll go ask around and see if they have a spare bunk or cot somewhere," Ramza told her, a small smile on his face.  
  
"Will you be okay?" Agrias asked, wondering, and she winced as her words left her. (Obvious. . .) she told herself.  
  
"Don't worry," Ramza assured her. "I can always sleep in the stables."  
  
Before the women in the room could turn their attention to him, Mustadio opted to say, "I'll stay in the library! I'm sure the study's open. . ." he remarked loudly in haste. Without waiting for any replies, Mustadio hurriedly left the room.  
  
Alicia groaned as Lavian tried to become inconspicuous by going to the first bedroom with a small bundle of clothing in her arms. Lavian was dressed the same as Agrias, having shed her armor, while Alicia was still dressed as a chemist woman.  
  
Ovelia came into the conversation with an almost indignant voice. "For all you've been through for us, Mr. Ruglia," she addressed him, "I would not mind if you continued to protect us," she stressed, "by being a sleeping sentinel in this room," she indicated. Then she turned her attention to Agrias. "Wouldn't you agree?" she asked gently.  
  
Fighting the stammer that was coming on, Agrias brusquely nodded. "Yes, the cardinal's people shouldn't be bothered by something like this. . ." she looked at Ramza guiltily. "We've spent enough time in the field. . . together. . ."  
  
Blinking, Ramza just nodded. "Thank you Agrias," he paused, "and your highness."  
  
Ovelia suppressed a sigh. "Even though I know you won't, please, my given name is Ovelia," she pointed out, knowing that no one would break that piece of protocol.  
  
"About Mustadio. . ." Ramza brought up, doubtful if he should see how far the womenfolk's hospitality extended.  
  
"He 'found' something for himself," Alicia remarked drily, obviously leaving something unsaid. "Let's get Ramza set up," she declared, looking at Agrias. "I don't think there're any cots to spare though."  
  
"The floor will be fine," Ramza absentmindedly replied, wondering what was going on around him.  
  
"Not until we get some blankets for you first," Agrias threw out unthinkingly. She was surprised when no one except Ramza seemed to notice her outburst.  
  
"Sor-" he began, but cut himself off as he saw her glare. "Um. . . I didn't bring much with me, all I have to do to prepare is to get out of my armor."  
  
"This I want to see," Ovelia brought up, the innocent tone she tried to portray spoiled the playful undertone her remark possessed.  
  
Knowing she stood a good chance of being teased, Agrias stepped up to Ramza and giving her an understanding smile, they began the process of removing the plating he wore.  
  
It didn't help that Alicia hooted as Ovelia giggled, which made Agrias blush, while Ramza did the best he can to look unaffected.  
  
Through the embarrassment Agrias enjoyed it.  
  
***  
  
Again, their room had no window, located in the inner core of the keep. Agrias missed the view more than she detested the night's chill. (Stuffy. . .) was what Agrias thought, summarizing her opinion of their quarters.  
  
"Is there anything to do?" Alicia impatiently inquired.  
  
"Town leave?" Ramza offered softly, a pleasant expression on his face.  
  
Lavian shrugged. "It feels too long since the last time. . . the Imperial City I think."  
  
"Not as if I have anyone to support with my pay. . ." Alicia let out sullenly, before changing the subject. "Dame Agrias? Would it be all right if we. . ."  
  
"If you can find something to do," Agrias told them. She trusted them to take care of themselves.  
  
"Ramza," Alicia continued, "wanna come with?"  
  
Clad in his faded gray tunic and dark blue pants, Ramza stood. He shrugged. "To a point." He raised his forearm to his nose and made a slight sniff to make a statement. "Until we stumble into a place where we can bathe."  
  
"We?" Lavian brought up, the demure façade trying to hide a smile.  
  
Ramza was smart enough to say nothing as his mouth dropped.  
  
"Ma'am," Alicia addressed Agrias again. "Maybe you should come along too." The two were enjoying trying to draw a reaction from either Ramza or Agrias.  
  
Though assailants weren't her main worry at this point, Agrias hesitated. Ramza kept quiet, apprehensive.  
  
"Not to put too fine a point on it. . ." Lavian began to advocate.  
  
"We reek," Alicia finished.  
  
Agrias chose to make no arguments as Ovelia herself carefully took a whiff of one of her robe's sleeves, the sour frown leaving no room for interpretation.  
  
***  
  
Agrias refrained from clucking as Ramza lead the way through the corridors. She didn't want to allude his actions to that of an eager child, but the nature of them was pure male if she ever saw it. If it wasn't for the fact he actually asked directions from servants and soldiers he met in the halls, Ramza would have fit the stereotype perfectly. (At least he has hope), Agrias thought.  
  
She shivered. The women had brought change of clothing, but no indoor footwear; they all had worn boots. Thus, Ramza included, everyone padded around barefoot. While Ramza and Lavian simply walked at an even pace, Agrias and the others cut a funny show as they tried hopping from carpet strip to carpet strip.  
  
The baths were actually baths. Agrias found something very intriguing about them as well. They were segregated. By that, they seemed to be fit for their specific customer, well, from what Agrias saw of the chamber made for the 'fairer' sex.  
  
There wasn't a collective pool of any kind, but instead, a series of tubs recessed into the stone floors. (So I only have to drag myself out of the tub and onto the floor instead of falling into it,) Agrias pondered, amused, liking the feature. Following Ovelia and the other women, Agrias deposited her fresh clothing at the common area -the dry zone. She had been in baths like this before - but only in Ivalice's capital in Lesalia. Normally, she was content to take a bath in whatever clean-looking stream she found, but the pursuit and then the retreat gave her no solid opportunity.  
  
Now that she thought about it, Agrias felt as if she was wearing a second skin, the accumulation of sweat, grime, and dust from days in the field. She found it annoying that it was only uncomfortable now that she had the time to think about such things. (But I felt so fresh that night in Dorter. . .) Agrias thought, thinking back to the desperate day where the pursuit began.  
  
As soon as she stepped onto the rough, moist, and warmed tiles, Agrias curled her toes, luxuriating in the feel. The room was actually warm, and she thought that there was actually staff underneath them who had fires going to do so. There was the hint of steam in the indoor well, where everyone would pail water to their own baths.  
  
Nodding at Alicia and Lavian, the Knights of St. Konoe went on water- lugging duty for the princess' bath. Ovelia knew that there was little point in stopping them; instead the princess opted to fetch several soaps and bathing stones -pebbles smoothed by river currents- to distribute among their four tubs; as they served her, she would serve them.  
  
The pitching effort was sloppy as the three women hurried, some water spilling out of the metal pails; even wet, the rough texture of the floor kept any of them from slipping.  
  
Once finished with Ovelia's tub, the knights continued on to fill each others' respective tubs. None of them were surprised that Ovelia simply reclined on her side, waiting for them to finish before she would get into her basin.  
  
All through this, not a word had been said, everyone finding a role to fulfill and following it. A moment of synchronization to fulfill a common purpose -even if it was an insignificant matter that suited the mood: camaraderie. That and they hadn't bathed for almost a week.  
  
***  
  
Disrobed, Agrias sat on the stone floor, her legs in a butterfly, finally having a chance to examine how that part of her body had held up. (Ha! So I didn't fatten up!) Agrias thought, a shallow thought to play down her true fears of wounds that had not been spotted, permanent mutilations upon her form. Even as a woman of the sword and to a degree: the cloth, Agrias valued her appearance. Anyone she's ever met that's claimed otherwise was a liar, through-and-through.  
  
She always wondered why of men and women in the field, men grew the most gaunt while women always retained their characteristic curves. Or in other words, why women always kept the most fat.  
  
Agrias was pleased with that. She was active enough that her body consumed enough energy to keep her trim. Her muscle mass had grown stronger, but not larger, another fact that pleased her. More or less her body had not changed for several years now, and Agrias wanted that trend to continue.  
  
(Clean. . .) Agrias thought, admiring her thigh where it met her knee. She had been bathing for several minutes now, enjoying the change in temperature, within and without. Initially, the water had been chill, but as the unseen miracle workers increased the heat being applied from beneath, the temperature of the tubs rose. Agrias had ignored the soap, letting herself soak as she let her mind roam free. Even the sensation of the water traveling up from her sunken hair to soak her scalp was extraordinary.  
  
Resting her head on a towel she was using as a pillow set at one end of her tub, Agrias turned her gaze to the side to see Alicia and Lavian to her left, each in their respective tubs. She wasn't surprised to see that both were overflowing with soap bubbles; a mass of suds that continued to grow, beginning to spill over the smooth lips of their respective tubs, creating a slippery field of lather between Alicia and Lavian.  
  
Letting them have their fun was one thing, but letting them act like children? The question was one Agrias threw around for a few moments, as she basked in the absence of the overwhelming feeling of responsibility, cascading consequences, all of which had borne down against her. What amazed Agrias was that all such burdens was something she had placed upon herself; regardless how responsible she felt, Agrias knew, the consequences would've been the same, and she knew that such worries would never have had an effect on her conduct.  
  
Agrias let her attention wander back to her body again. She was thankful that the warm water acted as if it had its own scent, smothering everyone's collected 'aroma' from their time spent traveling. That, or such a simple substance truly did cleanse everything so well. Playfully, Agrias cupped water in both of her hands on either side of her, and she poured them as they dripped out of her grasp onto her thighs and knees.  
  
Setting aside self-consciousness, Agrias laughed out loud. She continued to lay in her tub, reclined, her knees bent, most of her weight on her rump and her shoulders from where they touched the tub. Freely her calves kicked lightly -playfully, across the water, her wriggling in the sensation of the mild current of resistance that she was causing. (All the small things. . .) Agrias luxuriated in, finding it almost a struggle just to peek an eye open after she had shut them in satisfaction. Seeing that Ovelia was taking care of herself, Agrias went back to herself, enjoying nothing and everything.  
  
***  
  
Playfully, Agrias mentally chased after some terms that would do justice to what she was experiencing right now. Catharsis had occurred when they had reached this castle, and Agrias now rode it down. Lazily, Agrias raised her left arm out of the water to her elbow. Curiously, she held it to her face and scratched with her right hand. She was a little disgusted by the layer of black dirt scraped away by her nails, but Agrias had expected it. Soap performed wonders, but given time, water could accomplish most the same miracles. Still, she was fascinated at how she was able to clean herself this way.  
  
Contentment rang through her mind, and Agrias found it an apt word. She sought others that had brought similar thoughts and feelings to her mind.  
  
"Ramza," Lavian said pleasantly.  
  
The word triggered those very thoughts and feelings in Agrias, or did so until recognition of what the word -the name- implied and meant solidified in her mind.  
  
"Oh, hi there," Agrias heard Alicia remark.  
  
Agrias only took a moment to blink before she panicked. Factual statements flashed in her mind in reference to the moment. (I am naked in the women's bath.) (Ramza is in the women's bath.) (Ramza is in the women's bath when I am naked.) The three points agreed in a manner -put lightly, that Agrias did not find pleasant.  
  
As Agrias opened her eyes and saw a form standing in the tub in front of her, she reacted naturally.  
  
Agrias let out a shrill shriek, closing her eyes as she ducked forwards into the water, her wet hair lashing out in front of her head, hitting the water as she hunched over helplessly, the towel she had grasped for now soaked in the water as she sought to cover herself immediately.  
  
(How dare he!) Agrias thought, furious, embarrassed, and flustered?  
  
As she raised her head, her body now sufficiently shielded as she bunched up the towel in the water in front of her, Agrias saw who she was about to berate.  
  
(I hate myself. . .) Agrias thought as she stared up at a confused Ovelia who began to giggle, understanding the joke that Agrias had just been a victim of.  
  
Defeated, Agrias pulled the soaked towel out of the water and wrung it, all the while staring at her two subordinates, being deliberate in the way she wrung out the towel as she raked them with her angry glare.  
  
Which was ignored as both women laughed.  
  
"I can't believe you tried that!" Alicia exclaimed towards her partner, who was giggling, a rosy smile on her cheeks. "I don't think I've ever seen her like that before!"  
  
Agrias wanted to smash her forehead onto the lip of her tub -no, (after I smash their faces in first,) Agrias amended.  
  
Even Ovelia laughed as she stepped back into her tub, the extra toiletries she had retrieved -the reason she had gone out and back- floating in a pail besides the princess.  
  
The Holy Knight tried to piece back her dignity, but found that she couldn't at the scene of the crime, her sanctuary now defiled by her shame at being fooled in such a manner.  
  
She knew that she was taking it out of proportion, but Agrias also realized that for the rest of the night, she would be fodder for their entertainment, and she would rather try to regain her peace elsewhere, where she would be more aware of her environment.  
  
Hurriedly, Agrias rose out of her tub. "I'm done now. I'll see you all in our room," she told them, her irritation failing to be kept out of her voice. She was all too conscious of the knowing stares the three other females gave her. Wrapping the soaking towel around herself, Agrias tried to muster as much dignity as she could as she made her tactical retreat to the place where they had deposited all their possessions.  
  
Thinking about it, Agrias decided on changing in their room. The less time spent here, the better, the less humiliation. To everyone's benefit, no one laughed, which would have just provoked Agrias even more. Switching out for a fresh, dry towel, Agrias clutched her belongings to her as she left the bathing chamber.  
  
Since Agrias was busily listening and looking back to hear if they would start making fun of her openly now that she was gone, she did not see Ramza as she ran into him in the hallway.  
  
For better or for worse, he kept her from falling over as he reached his arms around her shoulders to steady her in a light embrace. As the cold in his touch rapidly became warm, so did Agrias stiffen immediately and then relax in his grip.  
  
Then the sexual tension came in for the both of them.  
  
***  
  
Reluctantly, Agrias could tell, Ramza released her as they both took a moment to stare at the other.  
  
"I heard you scream. . ." Ramza told her gently, and she was surprised that it wasn't in an apologetic tone, even if it was a weak reason. "Forget I asked," he followed up quickly, in a plain tone, one that hinted at understanding and acceptance of the inexplicable.  
  
Even if he was indirectly what caused the incident, Agrias was grateful. She was amazed that he could understand so much, but ask for so little. (How he understands, I don't know. . .) Agrias thought, just letting things be as she wondered what he would do now.  
  
It was at this point that Agrias noticed Ramza's state of dress, or rather, undress. In front of her, she could see Ramza's pale skin, and she could see the marked difference of the color of his face from the rest of his body, a side effect of wearing so much armor and having his face the only part of his body exposed in a regular basis. She could sympathize, as she herself had realized how pale her own skin had become.  
  
(Never mind that. . .) Agrias mind wandered as she unwittingly began to gawk. Ramza's body was plain, and as she had guessed, he was lean, not brawny. With his almost scrawny build, Agrias wondered how he could do half of what he had demonstrated. Gone was any baby fat Ramza may have had once upon a time, replaced by nothing on his slender frame. (Pretty boy?) was what Agrias thought upon having the chance to see him like this, exposed, and alone.  
  
The way some of the water that remained on him glistened. . .  
  
Agrias checked her own mouth as she had to consciously think about bringing her jaw up from where it hung slack. Ramza did not sport visible abdominals, and Agrias wondered, what true man did? From what she knew of the male race, they were slovenly, lazy, and most detestably: horny. Instead of a sculpted abdomen, Ramza had a soft curve for a stomach, representing the small amount of excess fat that he had. Agrias found herself even more attracted by that feature.  
  
As her eyes hungrily traced over the rim over the seductive roll that was the hem of the purple towel Ramza wore, she caught herself and realized what she had been doing.  
  
Guiltily seeking eye contact with Ramza as if to challenge him, to accuse him of accusing her, of tempting her, of seducing her, Agrias was the one that felt compelled to break, to submit, to accept whatever terms Ramza laid down. Embarassed, knew that he had been watching her eyes the entire time. It wasn't him that was ogling the other's body, but her, a Holy Knight!  
  
She knew him enough that she was confident that he wouldn't say anything. Somehow though, the welcoming expression on his face was more dangerous to her than any jocular remark or tease.  
  
Already shorter than her, Ramza lowered his knees as he stared up into her eyes, closing the distance between them. Agrias wondered at what she would do, beginning to lose control of her body as he moved ever so closer. Panic, hope, rejection, and acceptance warred within her as aspects of her personality began to draw up lines, dividing her.  
  
"Are you done?" she asked him, breaking the moment, and hating herself for it as some of the light went out in his eyes.  
  
Standing upright, Ramza again held her gaze with his own, and Agrias wanted nothing more than to step into those portals to the soul. He shook his head in the negative, and Agrias wondered what it was he meant.  
  
Before she could get a chance to ask him what he meant by that answer, Ramza gave her a sad smile before turning around and beginning to walk away.  
  
The abruptness that Ramza, of all people, chose to break contact left Agrias hanging, confused. Almost immediately, a stray drop of water ran down his left shoulderblade, following the path of his spine, being absorbed by Ramza's purple towel as her eyes keenly traced its route.  
  
The purple-covered curves that her eyes encountered upon wandering down stirred something once more within Agrias as she watched him enter the men's bath.  
  
"Ramza. . ." she murmured.  
  
"Will you wait for me?" Ramza asked her, presumably for her to wait while he changed, but Agrias wondered, with all these subtleties, what else did he imply?  
  
"I'll be in our room. . ." Agrias hurriedly told him as she readied herself to leave. She felt guilt as she saw Ramza bow his head lightly, closing his eyes for a moment, before nodding his acceptance.  
  
Then, as he stepped within the threshold of the men's bath, he was gone, and Agrias was left there, confused, having been struck with was obvious, subtle, confused, and in denial.  
  
A small part of her was angry at Ramza for pressuring her like this, but another was even angrier at herself for dancing around him in this manner. What was between them was by every moment growing less of a mystery and becoming more of something to be denied, not pondered about.  
  
Settling herself down, Agrias began to walk down the corridor, remembering the path to their room. "Ramza, what do you want of me?" she asked herself," . . . and what do I want of you?"  
  
All that was in Agrias' mind now was what might, would, or will happen between them. That, and the image of Ramza's derriere.  
  
***  
  
Quickly, Agrias had secured their rooms. Safe it was, but she could not shake the compulsion to perform a check for intruders, even if the only armor she wore was a dark purple towel that had caught her attention in the baths. Something about the noble color seemed familiar and attractive. Even after dyes had been invented, the symbolism of the color had yet to fade. Its glory faded as she spotted Ramza's own beaten breastplate laid against the wall on the floor, and the memory of his cloth-veiled derriere. . .  
  
There would only be one intruder in the room, and Agrias knew who he was.  
  
A headache began to form as her mind started to deny what her thoughts said about Ramza that wasn't platonic in nature. Knowing that Ramza would not be far in following, whether he was still on the way, or he had found something to do -(Eat, maybe?) Agrias wondered, she began to hurriedly change.  
  
The dusty smell of her second set of clothing -untouched since she had never taken enough time to obtain a change of clothes, was ignored as Agrias hurriedly slipped on a worn tunic. The white of the cloth had long since faded, and Agrias paid no attention to that, not wanting to find any symbolism in the tarnishing of a color that represented purity, especially in reference to her. She spent too much time obsession about duty and protocol, and the less she had of it in the miniscule personal life she allowed herself to possess, the better.  
  
(Hypocrite,) she dully accused herself as she put on a pair of pants. Fresh and clean now, however, the taint of her thoughts made Agrias grow uncomfortable, even after the invigorating bath she had taken.  
  
The damp patches of her skin uncovered by cloth made her shiver, and Agrias picked up the purple towel, dabbing it gently over her skin, enjoying the comfort she drew from it. Leaning her head forward, Agrias gathered her damp dirty-blond locks onto the towel and wrapped it as best as she could. It would take forever to dry, and the purpose of dry clothing would be defeated if she allowed it to drip onto her.  
  
Knowing she looked awkward, Agrias took the time to take the towel and wrap it in around her head to cover her hair, giving her a coiffure of violet.  
  
Even with the tension that bothered her, Agrias felt good. That changed once she felt his presence approaching. Quiet, comforting, undeniable was what Agrias would have described it as, feeling out for her angelic dichotomy.  
  
"Come in, Ramza," she told him before on the other side of the wooden door Ramza could even knock.  
  
Properly clothed now, Agrias had no problem staring at the boy.  
  
"Beautiful," Ramza told her plainly, charming her without meaning to, taking away what it was she would say next.  
  
Telling herself to live for the moment, Agrias went forwards and welcomed them into her suite -their suite. (In the initiative lies comfort. . .) she thought again.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
What to say, what to say, ah yes, I succumbed to the 'urge' and I wrote a bath scene involving the girls. It wasn't too gratuitous, nor was it meant to be. Its not as if I expected them to be playing around or anything. . . *cough*  
  
I can't help but think I ruined the scene by bringing in the semi- confrontation between Agrias and Ramza.  
  
It's a consequence of leaving so many things unsaid, and relying too much on subtleties. The system will be abused when people begin to misinterpret or willfully ignore what is going on around them.  
  
Don't think of it as a danger sign (well, it is, but it isn't a heralding of the Apocalypse), but it is an aspect of their budding relationship that these two, Ramza and Agrias (both are guilty) much accept and ultimately, accommodate or solve.  
  
Or, in a nutshell, Agrias had a hormone rush, and the fact that Ramza doesn't just want to sleep with her, but actually wants her as a lifelong mate is more threatening since THAT is harder to dismiss than lust alone. It also doesn't help that everyone else (Alicia, Lavian, and Ovelia) around her is pushing Agrias towards Ramza, as opposed to letting her build up the determination herself.  
  
Plus, in case it hasn't been shown, Ramza is demonstrating signs of being passive-aggressive (the one where a person says "Oh, I wish we could do that" but they imply "You WILL do that. . .").  
  
Isn't lack of subtlety unentertaining?  
  
If this scene frustrated you, well, buckle up, for the next two-three will probably be similar.  
  
I have to say this, as a guy, its REALLY uncomfortable writing something alluring about another guy. Yeah, it was awkward to write half that stuff about Ramza.  
  
Oh well, at least it made up for the pseudo-Agrias fanservice.  
  
More than made up for it. . . *shudder*  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Reader's Response Corner***  
  
Um, well, first thing's first - I'm a 17-year old male living in the Bay Area. Now that I've disappointed everyone, moving on. . .  
  
Thanks for noticing the subtleties and other things that I try to infuse into my writing. Half the time I think I mess it up or make it too blatant, but others I think no one ever catches anything (rather, no one ever tells me).  
  
One of the things that I think is one of the best aspects of writing is when I have a chance to put in 'all the small things.' To me, that's what makes or breaks a story as simply good to absolutely awesome. Minor details, and most of all, insignificant events and activities that don't need to have bearing on the plot, something that simply shows how the characters are.  
  
Fine, if that means taking all the action out of the story, its something I won't miss.  
  
I would rather write a scene about Ramza and Agrias sitting in a path of grass, holding hands, just talking to each other about random things that are happening in their lives than a piece where somehow both of them are at the forefront, deciding behind the scenes what'll become of Ivalice; even though that technically WAS the underlying plot of FFT. . . oops.  
  
TWH? Wait, TeknosWarHammer? I remember reading a Kiyone piece of yours once upon a time @ the TMFFA. Wow, a veteran author stumbled into this. And you think my stuff is actually that good? That just made my day.  
  
It's a pain to make battle scenes, since they require so much detail to write, and one has to stay away from choreographing the fight or making it cliché, another reason I enjoy writing the small things; the pieces between characters where the rest of the world could burn as far as the participants are concerned.  
  
Oddly enough, I thought I've already done the scenes you said that I should implement. . . well, yeah, it might be a while they, or more to the point, Agrias will be open about the relationship they are beginning to have, and from then on how it will progress.  
  
Oh, and Ilvanaeda (sorry, I'm working from memory here, and I've lost internet access for my word processing machine), just keep at it. The stuff you write do have some problems that I can see, for example, they are far too short and short stories need a heavy impact hammer (as in a lesson, moral, theme, or just MOMENT) to make their impression in the short time they have. Also, the stuff just seems a little too pedestrian: a little plain, too surface level, in other words, there's nothing there to make readers stop and think.  
  
I guess I'm coming down hard on you, but from the wording of your reviews, it sounded as if you wanted me to critique your own works.  
  
As to the Miluda scene, it is something I intent to cover, and Ramza'll be spending more than enough time at Lionel Castle for the subject to be broached.  
  
Kanemi, thanks for taking the effort to e-mail me. As to why I chose to portray Ramza in the way I have, well, to make him a solid character with no flaws and one who lets nothing faze him (truly, not just presenting an external appearance), would be making him too perfect. With all that's heaped upon him, the loss of Delita and the loss of Teta, as well as total disillusionment with the social system beginning with the first encounter with Miluda, to the betrayal of him by his brothers, and finally, the truth behind St. Ajora, Ramza is going to be torn apart.  
  
Alicia and Lavian call him a wuss because they are saying what they are seeing. Ramza never seemed like a badass character, and even in the beginning, he was only a spoiled brat with a sword at worst. What do you think seasoned soldiers are going to think of a boy who seems too timid and nice to be a hardened mercenary in Gafgarion's company?  
  
I write Ramza how I perceive a person who acted like he has in the game would be should we be able to read more into his thoughts and actions. I also added in faults and quirks that I believe must be in a person like him. Everyone has their way of dealing with life's hardships, and a lot of Ramza's 'flaws' (I call them 'features') reside therein.  
  
Considering your other point, anyone is welcome to be my pre-reader. The only thing is, I've learned to work independently of others, and I tend to post as soon as I am done writing (don't take offense if I post before addressing your comments). If you want, I can put you on a mailing list where every now and then I post what I've gotten done thus far; you are more than welcome to comment and criticize on these sections before I can post them. I've done re-posts on my story before, so there's precedent. Even if it boils down to you being able to see half a scene a week or two before the rest is posted, hey, you're more than welcome to ask me.  
  
Hm, another thing, I AM a biased author. As a person, I have opinions, and I know I cannot keep them all in check and they are bound to filter into my writing. If you are good at reading people and their actions, I'm sure you can spot my personality traits and where the biases are in my writing. Still, I enjoy playing Devil's Advocate, and there are few things more entertaining and intellectually stimulating than to see a situation from as many as one can, and to have the ability to argue these points as if they were your own convictions.  
  
Yeah, I guess Alicia and Lavian are beginning to pick up their own fan base ^_^.  
  
Hm, right now, what do you think of the rate that Agrias and Ramza are driving towards each other at? Right now their natures seem to have clashed against each other, with Ramza trying to approach Agrias whilst she isn't sure just how much she wants to pursue a relationship with him.  
  
***Reader's Response Corner***  
  
***Miscellaneous***  
  
I've thought about including songs in this fic. . . contemporary songs. I'm too uncultivated to know of any medieval / Romanesque songs, ballads, poetry, or epics that can relate (in somewhat of a literal fashion) to D.C.T.R. (the acronym for the story).  
  
I've done SongScenes before, and what I've always done is actually incorporate lyrics as dialogue, trying to make the narration (description of actions) and the actual 'singing' flow together. I consider it a cop- out to simply copy & paste lyrics; where's the effort?  
  
Candidates:  
  
*Goo-Goo Dolls - Iris (the acoustic version - it sounds simpler than the original)  
  
Almost all the lyrics match, and the religous allusions are nice, even if I have to well, warp them into the entire Excommunication/Heresy aspect of the story as applies to Ramza.  
  
*Lifehouse - Hanging By A Moment (its a little too modern, but somehow I'll see if I can make it fit)  
  
Well, pretty self-explanatory, a lot of the lyrics match, and the near-desperate, lost mood (the guy sounds like he's just brought up the courage to tell the girl he likes). It'll only be part of the song though, it repeats far too much.  
  
*Vertical Horizon - Everything You Want (Just take away all the instrumentals and of course, Ramza's proposed lighter voice)  
  
Ramza isn't singing this to Agrias in person, but it will be Agrias' mental representation of him talking to her in her thoughts.  
  
While that may seem like a pre-excuse for OOC, well, um. . . *cough* yeah. . . about that.  
  
*Garbage - I Think I'm Paranoid (Agrias needs a song to sing. . .)  
  
Really OOC, but the basic statements are just perfect as applies to Agrias and her thoughts on Ramza. Well, it sort of describes a lot of women, or should I just stop digging myself a hole right now?  
  
Purple Chocobos: (The unlikely contenders)  
  
*Weezer - Butterfly (Agrias, butterfly, see the reference? Long-shot though, especially since I draw all the wrong impressions from this song - rape implied?)  
  
*Three Doors Down - Here Without You (Just imagine a softer, less masculine and country-ish voice singing it)  
  
One of those songs Ramza sings to himself. . .  
  
*Evanescence - Bring Me To Life  
  
Yeah, its one of the unlikelies. I just think its because I like the song so much. A lot of the stuff delved into this just doesn't seem to fit. Then again, its Agrias' favorite tragic word. . .  
  
Agrias loses allegiance to the Church and all of her shields finally collapse in on herself. . . maybe, but then again, that's going too far ahead into the story.  
  
***  
  
I can tell just now that regardless which songs I select (there is no minimum or maximum) there will have to be some lyric editing. Not only do I steal their work, but I butcher it as well. . . uh-oh.  
  
It seems tempting just to slap as many Goo Goo Dolls song into the D.C.T.R. Soundtrack. . . Who knows, I might go back and search through the 'older' material (come on, I was born in eighty-six). There has to be some non-cliched retro out there, but then again, I don't think Aretha Franklin's voice would fit Agrias' body. . .  
  
Thoughts?  
  
***Miscellaneous***  
  
***Postscript***  
  
Yeah, it looks as if 1/3rd of the new scene is actually Author's Notes-style material. Oh well. . . being sick for a while just gave me the ability to sit back and think, not focus enough and work.  
  
One more thing. . . I'm just thinking how different the scene would've if Agrias had access to a sword at the time of the 'Hi Ramza' incident. . .  
  
***Postscript*** 


	11. 10 Hit and Miss

***Author's Notes***  
  
Scene finished.  
  
Not much else to comment on except that this chapter begins with a strong focus on Agrias and Ramza interacting first with each other, and then later on branches out to how they deal with others.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-10 "Hit and Miss" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 05)  
  
Agrias had been surprised, losing her prized control of the situation as Ramza asked her to follow him and explore some of the castle with her.  
  
"I have to take care of Ovelia. . ." she told him, knowing that she was just making up reasons to avoid what it was Ramza wanted to confront her with.  
  
The steadfast way that Ramza simply waited for her to change her mind unnerved Agrias, who felt as if she was arguing with her conscience. (What are you doing here, away from her?) her mind accused her.  
  
"I want to talk with you," Ramza told her, bringing forth in his forward, calm, and penetrating manner what he wanted, what they both feared, desired and anticipated. He knew her initial statement was an excuse, an escape.  
  
"I can't Ramza. . ." Agrias hastily replied, making as if she would return to the baths, obviously to check back on Ovelia. "Don't ask me this."  
  
Ramza had sat down at a table placed right next to a wall. To stop unnerving her, he didn't stare directly into her eyes, staring at a place on the wall near her, but not past her. What was the worst was that Agrias could tell that Ramza was beginning to hide the fact that he was uncomfortable as well. Uncomfortable did not define what he felt, and she knew it was disappointment, confusion and not a little bit of hurt. He was beginning to shield his actions, his emotion, in other words, he was beginning to close his heart. What upset Agrias was that Ramza thought he was doing this for her sake too, not just his.  
  
(Its not that simple, but you could make better decisions,) Agrias thought, wondering what it was she would do. Agrias did not like the fact that in a way, Ramza was leaving everything up to her, implicating her with all of the responsibility, and in an extension, all the problems. As if it was all on her hands.  
  
He turned his gaze to stare into her, and Agrias didn't know what to say as he told her simply. "That's," he began, stuttering, "that's all right." She could tell that Ramza forced himself to finish his statement with "I understand."  
  
She expected him to leave now, but Ramza was not so melodramatic, even with him being basically being rejected. The boy had tenacity, Agrias tiredly acknowledged. Perseverant or hardheaded: the trait depended on how one was involved.  
  
"Maybe sometime, Ramza?" she said weakly as she got ready to exit the room. Opening the door into the hallway, she looked back. (Rejected?) her mind threw at her, (Hardly! You lie to yourself. . .)  
  
What disturbed was the way Ramza seemed unaffected now, never having fully lost his composure, but in that brief moment, he had put up his own defenses. Agrias didn't blame him for it. She too felt hurt by her own actions, but she felt that it was unfair of him to push her this way. (Doesn't he know he's forcing me to make a decision?)  
  
(I don't want any of this. . .) she told herself, ignoring the way her inner voice growled at her.  
  
"I would like that," he told her, the shields falling away for just a moment as she heard the casual anticipation in his voice, and the way his false façade lost its dull edge, a brief quirk of his mouth indicating a fantasizing smile.  
  
(Stop that. . .) she thought, wishing she could tell him no. Not out of rejection: to push him way, but because he was affecting her too much, complicating her life more than it should be.  
  
(Why can you never accept the simple answer?) Agrias' subconscious told her, jarring the Holy Knight. (Simple doesn't mean insincere, and it doesn't mean it's a lie.)  
  
Taking a stand, Agrias turned around and peeked into their room. Though she knew it wasn't a solution, Agrias once again took the initiative. Being the aggressive one, the assertive one, the aware one, was something that Agrias drew comfort from. Being in command, having so many responsibilities, duties, and burdens had changed her, Agrias knew. It wasn't an admission that Agrias was fond of pondering.  
  
"I know what you are asking me," Agrias told him as directly as she could, trying to lose the tone of command in her voice while she tried to convey the gravity of what she was trying to tell him. Agrias paused, doubt beginning to reclaim her mind again as she wondered what she would say next, knowing that she may have just pushed back too hard and too close to the subject at hand. Thinking back on what she shared with him, Agrias referred to one of those events. "Ask me another time. . ."  
  
Agrias thought that was best. To say something else would be to risk him taking it the wrong way. The 'You're a nice guy. . .' speech was something males knew all too well as the death knell to any chance of them courting a female. (As much as he may be able to read into me,) Agrias thought, (I'm not leaving it to chance that he may think I'm driving him away.)  
  
(Isn't that what you're doing?) a thought accused her.  
  
Ramza smiled at her, and Agrias had to turn her head slowly back into the hallway. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she told him. She didn't know if he would still be in the room then, but she knew she felt uncomfortable around him right at this moment. Not that Agrias was afraid that he would leave in a tantrum, but that. . . that. . . (Argh!)  
  
"Headache tonight?" Ramza called after her as she shut the door behind her.  
  
The joked implication was something Agrias did not find funny, but frustrating as he switched from what she thought of as romantic -in the 'clueless and fearful of rejection' fashion, to humorous, with a naughty undertone.  
  
On the other side of the door, Ramza blinked as he heard thumping. Curious, he immediately stood and up strode over an opened the portal. Even though he knew who it would be, Ramza realized exactly how the sound was produced. Ramza did not flinch as he stared into Agrias' exasperated façade at point-blank range, to the point where he could smell her breath; stale, yet warm and enticing to him. Politely, Ramza kept from breathing onto her, as he tracked his gaze upwards. Seeing, the reddish patch on Agrias' forehead where she must have struck herself against the door, creased in a frown, Ramza immediately regretted his repartee.  
  
The cold bemusement that Ramza could see in Agrias' eyes almost set utter terror upon Ramza. It would have, had he not seen the slight smirk that Agrias masked with her angry expression. It wasn't terror he felt, but he was anxious as to what she would do in retaliation. Yet, he found it worthwhile, feeling that whatever coin she would demand, he would accept gladly.  
  
Her expression turning blasé, Agrias leaned in to Ramza, but she lost her nonchalant edge as Ramza did not retreat, but calmly stood his ground, expecting what it was she would do. To draw an effect from him, Agrias uttered a small moan, one of discomfort that transformed into a sultry purr. "Sorry honey," she purred, utterly enjoying the way Ramza was taken off-guard. Leaving Ramza stunned, Agrias turned and walked away from him in the route that lead to the baths, taking care to put more emphasis into the sway of her hips as she calmly paced away.  
  
As an afterthought, Agrias shook her head, making her hair shift behind her, locks clung together by the bathing water separating, creating a billowy shroud for a moment. The mewl she added was simply too cruel.  
  
***  
  
Ramza did not stay in the room after Agrias had left. Walking in the other direction from the baths, Ramza found and asked one of the castle's civilian staff for some food. He found the man making the rounds, inspecting the empty chambers in what Ramza assumed to be the guest quarters.  
  
The steward was apprehensive and very curious about what Ramza would need, since it was known that Princess Ovelia was visiting the castle, and that this boy -Ramza- in front of him was one of her guards.  
  
"Something plain - for all of us," Ramza told him.  
  
"Are you sure, sir?" the older man addressed Ramza, dubious but polite.  
  
Ramza answered the question that the steward must have been thinking. "Her highness enjoys solidarity with her subjects. She would prefer dining with her us."  
  
Rumors had been circulating within the castle about the princess even before she had arrived. The cardinal had never been one for secrets, and word of the 'state visit' spread through the denizens of Lionel Castle. Seeing the state of her guards, worn out from being in the field, only fanned the flames of gossip.  
  
To Ramza, the steward was probably already adding this encounter with one of Ovelia's 'entourage' to the pool of intrigue. "Ah. . . of course. If you'll come with me to the kitchen, you can select which dishes you would like for us to take to your room. If you want, there's almost always a cook on duty-"  
  
"No need for special treatment," Ramza interrupted him. "So long as it can warm and fill a belly, it is enough."  
  
Apprehensively, the steward politely acquiesced. "If you'll follow me sir, the kitchens are this way." Wanting to ask about the nature of the princess' visit, but too indoctrinated into his role, the steward fell back to idle, though welcome, chatter. "Let's find something for you to eat."  
  
Allowing the servant a small lead, Ramza tailed behind, taking time to examine the hallway covered in stone and reinforced by wooden frames above in the ceiling. No matter how cozy the environment tried to be, even with vibrant tapestries and sometimes small tables with knick-knacks on them, Ramza never felt at home within a castle.  
  
He had always seen these places for what they are. A stronghold, a place meant to withstand attack. A place where one radiated power, and the surrounding area was at their fiat. Having grown up in Igros Castle, Ramza had learned as he grew up just how much power the nobles wielded, and how much of that power they spent to hold onto what influence and affluence they possessed.  
  
Though security was not a question when it came to castles, Ramza never found comfort within them.  
  
Blinking, Ramza interrupted his thoughts, noticing the steward beginning to walk down one of the spiral series of stone steps that traveled through the levels of the castle. He wondered why he was beginning to feel nostalgia.  
  
He didn't have much success as he traveled down the counter-clockwise spiral. Even the stairway had martial functions. Most people were right- handed, and in ascending such a staircase, would have to fight uphill with their right arc against the stairpost, while the defenders above could sweep down upon them.  
  
Ramza wondered if there were any other reasons why he felt so unsettled.  
  
(It can't be her. . .) Ramza reasoned, attempting to find what else it was that was bothering him.  
  
***  
  
The familiar smell of the spit, sauces and the salty smell of cooked meat let Ramza know they were near. The steward had only wanted to talk of the 'mystery' behind Ovelia and her arrival, and Ramza thought there was no reason that people should know of this.  
  
The heat was the second indicator as Ramza stepped into the kitchen's main chamber. If it wasn't for the tables strewn with ingredients, in- progress meals, and the finished products, the scene could have been mistaken for a forge. On one side of the wall was a series of cooking spits arranged in a row where the furnaces would've been.  
  
"Phillip," a man clad in a smudged and stained smock -which had once been white- hailed Ramza's guide. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Princess' Ovelia's. . ." the steward paused, trying to think of how to address Ramza. He coughed to clear his voice to mask his hesitation. "Her Highness' warrior is here to select her and her entourage's meal."  
  
Ramza could see the cook began to get frustrated. "Without any notice?" the cook grumbled, his heat-reddened face in a frown.  
  
The steward shrugged, showing to his friend that he was just as lost. "Kevin, Her Highness wants a simple meal, one that she can share with. . ." the steward paused again, "them. . ." he finished, unable to find the term.  
  
The cook blinked. "Oh well. Guess they're too exhausted from that skirmish to have dinner with the Cardinal tonight." Remembering that Ramza was there, the tall and broad-shouldered cook paused, knowing he had just committed a faux pas. The man looked fat, but as he moved, one could see the mass of muscle flex and stretch.  
  
"Something like that," Ramza said tiredly. While he knew he shouldn't have said anything to confirm or deny whatever rumors were floating around, Ramza also thought that intimidating others wasn't the solution to that problem.  
  
"Sorry, sir," Phillip began, finally addressing what he had wanted to ask. His friend had already let the Couar out of the bag, so to speak. "There's been a report involving mercenaries making an attempt on the princess' life."  
  
Even though Ramza knew that the man referred to today's slaughter, he still thought back to how the group that he had 'belonged' in had betrayed the princess. Ramza had his own thoughts as to how Goltana and Larg, rivals for the realm both, were involved in this act of treason. With the resources that both wielded, it could be classified as a coup -or more appropriately: civil war.  
  
Between those two, Ivalice would be divided. (Except for the Church. . .) Ramza pondered.  
  
"No," Ramza told them, knowing it would stir up even more controversy, but it would also deflect from Ovelia. "They were after someone that the princess had placed under her protection."  
  
"Oh. . ." Kevin remarked, drawling the word out, as if trying to understand the question even as he replied. It was analogous to a student eagerly raising his hand to report before he had finished finding the answer.  
  
"The other young man with you?" the steward asked.  
  
Other servants had begun to come near as well. Several of the mess- boys were beginning to clean up the preparatory tables around the fallen, the steward, and the cook. A woman hauling in a group of steins in either hand dropped them roughly onto the table Where the cook was tall and massive, she was short and stout, having mud-black hair and a slightly darker skin tone.  
  
"You mean the curious little boy in yellow and blue?" she jumped into their conversation with a cynical tone.  
  
"We have company, wife," the cook said tiredly.  
  
"Yes, we do, dinnae we?" she replied in her highland accent. The sarcasm in her reply held no venom, only exasperation. "I have one of them following me now."  
  
"The stomach rules all," the cook joked.  
  
"Aye, dear," his wife told him, turning around and looking for the young man supposed to be following her. "Now where'd that laddie go?"  
  
"What do you mean, wasn't he following you?" the steward asked.  
  
"Don't worry," Ramza said. "Like your. . ." he hesitated as he looked at the woman, "husband," another pause as she nodded at him, standing by the cook to show he wasn't assuming anything, "said, his stomach will bring him here."  
  
"Everyone," she spat out. "You mean men."  
  
Wisely, none of the males spoke up.  
  
***  
  
"Have you found a place to spend the night?" Ramza asked Mustadio was lead into the kitchen. Some of the mess-boys and cauldron-girls had been searching for the young man, and one of the girls -a woman wearing yellows and greens- had retrieved him.  
  
"Took me a while," the engineer quipped, "but they found me a bunk  
  
"And you say its us," the cook's wife cut in, "that have problems with getting lost."  
  
Ramza and Phillip could only give helpless expressions as the cook was henpecked.  
  
"We all do," Ramza said, in his way trying to disarm the friendly argument. Sometimes, even playful conflict could turn serious.  
  
"I remember when you first came here, Kim," Phillip remarked jovially. "You always tagged along with one of the others everywhere you went for fear of being - ow!" Phillip cried out as she stepped on his foot as she left to drop off the steins somewhere else to be cleaned.  
  
"My name is 'Kimberly' first of all. I'll leave you here to fill yer' bellies," she told them all. "I still have to tend to those damn drunk soldier-laddies up in the mess," she grumbled.  
  
Ramza chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. "Some of the cadets had that problem," he told them. "Which is why all the squad leaders 'happened' to not notice whenever the serving. . ." Ramza paused, giving the woman a small smile, "lassies," he continued, "spilled hot soup on them every now and then."  
  
"Dearie. . ." the woman said, her tone softening as she leaned in towards him. "Are you trying to make my heart a flutter?" Ramza just shrugged, giving her an ambiguous reply with his body. The pleasant and calm expression on his face could mean either affirmative or negative, leaving the decision to the onlooker. "If I was just a few years younger," she countered, grinning as she noticed her husband's jaw drop. "Tell me," she began in her normal tone, "were you one of these ruffians or one of these bonnie leaders?"  
  
"Both," Ramza remarked to Karen, and to her credit, she wasn't surprised, simply understanding what Ramza told her. "I was different then."  
  
"You protect the princess, right?" the cook asked. "You a mercenary?"  
  
"Kevin. . ." the steward tried to warn his friend that he was being too forward, asking what wasn't his business.  
  
"I graduated from Gariland Magic Academy," Ramza told them. "Its not just mages that train there," Ramza told them. "It became more martial because of the war," Ramza explained, noticing that he had begun to gesture with his hands as he talked. "It became the feeding school for cadets training to be Hokuten. Before, the force was all local militia or transfers from other units."  
  
"You were Hokuten?" Kimberly asked, "What happened to you?"  
  
"I failed," Ramza told them. "I didn't know it, but I was caught between my duty and my conscience."  
  
"Well, what did you do then?" Mustadio came into the conversation. He was curious, and he hated being silent in a conversation, even if what he said made things worse for him.  
  
"Nothing. I didn't even make a choice. I failed at both." Ramza wondered what else he would tell them. Generalities were evasions in their own way.  
  
"That's a lesson more should learn without having to experience it," Kimberly told him sympathetically. "Pardon my rudeness, sir. . ."  
  
"Ramza," he told Kim his name.  
  
Kimberly grunted, "Well, I'm going to be taking some 'soup' to those soldiers now." She turned and gave Mustadio a dubious look. "Try not to get yourself into trouble."  
  
"Good luck," Mustadio called after her  
  
"You'll need it more than me!" Kimberly called back.  
  
Ramza chuckled as the woman walked away, and he gave a curious look towards Kevin. "You're a lucky man."  
  
Kevin shook his head. "You're the only one that thinks so."  
  
"Wait till she hears that," Phillip told him.  
  
"She already knows, right?" Mustadio piped up.  
  
Kevin just turned his back on them. "Pick out what you need and be done with it. Humiliating me is not part of the dinner package."  
  
"Entertainment helps the appetite," Mustadio continued in a jocular tone.  
  
Ramza only sighed as Kevin growled, backing up before turning around, brining his bulk to intimidate the young man. "Under the princess' protection or not, laddie, there are two ways I can get your next meal into your stomach. Down your throat or up the nether passage."  
  
"Still, you care for her. . ." Ramza stated, not trying to defuse the situation so much as probing for what the large man really thought.  
  
"Don't let her know that," Kevin stated gruffly as he let Mustadio back away; the boy had found a new interest in the portions of different foods spread around the tables.  
  
"Give it up, sir," Phillip said snidely, "The more you think about it, the more confused you are."  
  
"Love isn't logic. . ." Ramza murmured, growing distracted as he saw the steward staring past the other men he was with; Phillip's gaze towards one of the cooking fires, looking at a smoke-grimed girl dressed in browns and grays tend to the spit where a couar roasted. "Sometimes. . ." Ramza continued, talking to himself, "you have to accept that." Looking at how his comment, overheard by Phillip, caused the steward to wince as the man stared at the girl by the fire, Ramza chose to let the subject go.  
  
***  
  
Padding down the hallway, Agrias wondered what it was she would do. To accept, to embrace, or to push away, to reject. "I'm attracted to him. . ." she said softly out loud as she walked, making sure to hop between carpet to carpet, hating the cold stone floor.  
  
The closer she got to the women's bath, the more worried Agrias grew. (Tactical retreat?) she mused.  
  
(A siege. . .) she replied to herself. The fact that Ramza desired her in return wasn't something she could deny now. It was flattering, but beyond that superficial reaction, it was frightening. Someone, another human being, wanted her out of something more than base lust.  
  
Not simply to lay claim to her body, but to her heart.  
  
"I want Ramza. . ." Agrias admitted, finding that open confession to herself oddly relaxing, "but do I need him?"  
  
When Alicia stepped out of the women's bath, clothed in a pale olive blouse and a faded saffron skirt, the irritated expression on her subordinate's face let Agrias know she had been heard.  
  
Taken aback, Agrias was caught off-guard. Both knights, each clad in thin cloth instead of armor, faced each other off. Alicia spoke first in a tone that lacked none of her characteristic humor, annoyance, or childishness. "Lavian is with the princess," she told Agrias, before changing the subject. "As a friend, we need to talk about what you are doing -what you will be," Alicia interrupted herself, "doing with Ramza."  
  
Agrias knew Alicia well enough that if she was willing to breach protocol to this extent, there would be no deterring her from having that discussion, insubordination or not. "What do you wish to know?"  
  
The smartcrack did not come.  
  
"That," Alicia said annoyed, as she lead Agrias to a room across the women's bath, a collecting gathering area filled with benches, a place to lounge before and after ablutions. "Why do you act like that when it comes to him?"  
  
Agrias had answers, but none of them was something she wanted to share, even with herself.  
  
***  
  
"I know I'm overstepping my bounds," Alicia remarked as Agrias gave a hard stare past her, at the stone wall where they sat against the side of the room with the door.  
  
"Why do you want to know?" Agrias asked back.  
  
Alicia ignored that. "If you think you're choosing your job," Alicia said solidly, "over your emotions, you're only fooling yourself. You're almost forsaken your duty outright once or twice. You've certainly violated the spirit of it. . . I never thought I'd see the day you'd skirt by on the letter of things." Seeing Agrias turn her gaze towards her, Alicia was only encouraged by her provocation. "You think he's a distraction, don't you?" Alicia bluntly stated.  
  
"Yes," Agrias replied. It was the honest answer, but she felt guilty by saying it in that way.  
  
"I'm not saying that he isn't anything to you then," Alicia gritted out, frustrated. "But why do you put him down like this? You don't just feel lust for him, this is affecting you too much."  
  
"What if it is just that base emotion?" Agrias coldly tossed back, feeling that she was digging herself deeper, her defensive answers only serving to push her farther away from what she really thought.  
  
Alicia grew subdued, as if she was resigned. People like her did not get boisterous when infuriated, but they quiet, all the energy that mirrored their spirit being hidden, focused. When she spoke, her voice was serious and clipped. "In the years I served under you, I've gotten to know you. I've learned things about you. You're good at hiding some things, but you're so inexperienced," Alicia pointed out, "in this 'game,' that you didn't even know better to hide when a man fascinated you."  
  
Agrias felt the beginnings of a migraine form.  
  
When Alicia smirked, it was followed by a small chuckle. "I've seen you want men before." Agrias knew that to deny that was pointless. "The way you seemed drawn to them, the way you looked after them. . ."  
  
"What's your point," Agrias interrupted her. She knew that Alicia was most likely telling the truth from her perspective.  
  
"You never thought of them after seeing them a few times," Alicia said carefully, as if stating an argument. "The idea of Ramza gets into," Alicia said in a insinuating tone, a bit of friendliness beginning to show, "you even when he's not there."  
  
"You found that special," Agrias remarked dryly.  
  
"I hear its called an 'epiphany,'" Alicia mocked, "but to me, its 'the stupid finally seeing what's always been there.'"  
  
Alicia's anger was beginning to fade by the way she was beginning to look more relaxed.  
  
"What I see is, that boy's affecting you in a way I've never seen before." Alicia smiled as she moved in for the kill, lying back on the stone bench she and Agrias shared. "I can see that he happens to ring your bell," she quipped, "you look the same as when some yummy stud fresh from working in the fields, all sweaty and tired got near us. . . mm-mm-mm!"  
  
"Yes. . ." Agrias drawled out. "Are you just going to continue torturing me?"  
  
"Until you realize that lov-" Alicia caught herself, "liking Ramza isn't something for you to be ashamed of." She poked Agrias in the side with the toes on her left foot. "At least I'm not worried about you so much."  
  
Agrias just gave her an uncomprehending glance as Alicia craned her head upwards to deliver a lecherous smirk.  
  
"I was beginning to think the man who'd make you a woman was only a myth," Alicia remarked dryly.  
  
Feeling the conversation turn lighter, Agrias followed the thread, interested. "A myth?" She took a breath. "To tell the truth," Agrias said, knowing that her statement would reveal nothing knew to someone who knew her as long as Alicia had, "I never planned on getting married. . ." Agrias withheld a sigh that accompanied the melancholy and resigned loneliness that accompanied that thought.  
  
"Mm?" Alicia hummed, sitting up to face Agrias. "I don't remember bringing up the topic of marriage."  
  
Agrias froze as Alicia broadsided her with her own words.  
  
"I. . ." Agrias stuttered, "I meant that. . ."  
  
"Stop denying it. You should feel pride, not shame." Alicia let out a frustrated sigh. "I know I'm probably only giving you second thoughts as to any chance of you being with him, but dammit boss!" she cried. "What's so wrong? You care for him, and I've seen and felt," Alicia emphasized, "that he's interested in you more than just what men chase us for. He's not the Adonis, but he's as close to the perfect man for you as God created. In case you haven't noticed," Alicia said sardonically, "you can't marry St. Ajora. You're a knight, not a nun!"  
  
"With what we do for a living. . ." Agrias countered.  
  
Alicia's retort was in a theatric tone that mocked Agrias' voice by imitation. "Ah, the tragic ballad of the knight and her mercenary. . . either may die any day. . . and to love would only mean to be hurt the other all the more when one of them dies! Oh, cruel world!" Alicia let out a derisive snort. "Why deny both of yourselves happiness?" Alicia tossed back. "You're doing what you can to make the world a better place, but you can' hold it up all by yourself. You're a soldier, not a clergywoman. Discipline not self-denial." she pointed out. "You've almost died so many times that you're sense of mortality is more acute than anyone else's. Meaning, you're more desperate to live, and to enjoy what little bit of life that you can." Agrias knew she was caught trying to run away. "I remember you thinking others cowards when they pulled that same '  
  
Agrias remembered why many people couldn't hold a conversation of a serious nature with Alicia. The feisty chemist-knight's personality enabled her to switch from angry to amused and back again, and all throughout Alicia was aggressive, simply forward and intolerant of deceit, denial, or diversion in discussions. In other words, while she appeared to be a clown, Alicia also put more weight in her chats. "You lured me into this, didn't you?"  
  
"I will confess to that" Lavian's calm voice spoke.  
  
(Why is it that when others bring it up, I find liking. . .) Agrias grunted at the headache that thought caused, (. . . loving him so much easier to accept.)  
  
When Ovelia spoke up a moment later, Agrias wanted to crawl, hide, or otherwise, seek Ramza out. "Agrias, I know it is not my business. . ."  
  
"You're our friend," Alicia put bluntly, cocking an eyebrow at the princess.  
  
"Yes. . ." Ovelia agreed softly.  
  
"We don't mean to guide what you feel, but we want you to be honest with yourself. We know you well enough to tell that you're-"  
  
"Do you expect him to propose to me tonight?" Agrias said defensively, but her voice had a light-hearted tone in it. She felt that she could begin to be more open -to herself- about her state of relations with Ramza.  
  
"I would favor it," Ovelia said with a mischievous smile.  
  
As the two other females sat across Alicia and Agrias on another bench, the Holy Knight resigned herself to being the center of attention for tonight's entertainment. What she found truly amusing -and frightening- was that Ovelia was not kidding. (State wedding?) Agrias mused, shaking her heard as she gave a small laugh. "Whatever tomorrow brings," Agrias said out loud, feeling at ease.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
None really. Except that yeah, heavy emphasis on Agrias and Ramza interacting with other characters.  
  
Yes, it was inevitable that the females of the group would finally confront Agrias about the topic.  
  
On a side note. . . the story has finally broken 60,000 words. The pure, body-text version of it is that size, cutting out all of my commentary.  
  
Expect me to go into more of what has been established/covered in this scene in the next one. Hopefully it won't be painful.  
  
I'm really tenuous on my opinions about the last segment, where Alicia and Agrias finally talk about Ramza. Major questions:  
  
How did I butcher the portrayals of the female characters?  
  
Seriously, I'm thinking I did something wrong. . .  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
Nothing new to report.  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	12. 11 Flickering Hope

***Author's Notes***  
  
The point's been raised that I'm incredibly slow when it comes to actual storytime. . . so, the style of this chapter may differ since I am going to try to accelerate the writing a bit before bringing it back down to a reasonable pace.  
  
I detest 'telling' as opposed to 'showing,' but I have to push this story along and yes, I realize that it is getting bogged down into what I've trapped myself in before:  
  
The Chronicle Everything, LITERALLY EVERYTHING That Happens In A 24- Hour Period Dilemma.  
  
I do have to change seeing as the game spans months. . . and I'm not even a week yet into the story. . .  
  
Also, a new format will be introduced. I'm no longer going to be parenthesizing thoughts. It might lead to some confusion, but I think it looks cleaner. . . that sounds awkward.  
  
Also, footnotes will appear in this chapter. For example seeing a (1*) would indicate that there is a note for that selection I would like for you to read (for further clarification of the text) in the Author's Notes at the end of the chapter. It is sequential (1*, 2*, 3*, n*)  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-11 "Flickering Hope" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 11)  
  
***  
  
The four females found Ramza and Mustadio in the front room of their quarters. The two were sitting at the table, across from each other, already eating. Mustadio continued to spoon soup colored-brown into his maw while Ramza looked up from where he was picking apart a small loaf of bread to give them a welcoming smile.  
  
"Dinner's ready," he told them.  
  
"He's a keeper. . ." Alicia said snidely under her breath. For a moment, Agrias thought she might be elbowed by her subordinate.  
  
Ramza swept his hand towards the head of the table as he stood up from where he sat. Following Ramza's lead, Mustadio also stood.  
  
Bowing her head politely, Ovelia took the position offered with a smile as Mustadio awkwardly pushed her seat in. She had the pleasure of seeing Ramza seat Agrias, who surprising seemed nonchalant.  
  
Seated, now, Agrias found herself where Mustadio was, at Ovelia's right hand, while Ramza had presumptuously taken Ovelia's left, right across from her.  
  
"Thank you, Ramza," Lavian told him.  
  
Silently, the boy nodded.  
  
***  
  
Dinner had been rushed. Ramza was getting tired, and he knew the refreshment from bathing was beginning to fade from everyone. As soon as Mustadio finished his meal, the engineer excused himself.  
  
Ramza had nothing to talk about, nothing of consequence to everyone's collective concern, and nothing that would not inflame them and not cause them to worry over something that was beyond their help.  
  
As arranged, Phillip and Kim came by and picked up their dishes, and Ramza had to smile as the others were surprised that the castle staff already knew him, the insider effect seeming to capture the females' attentions, for better or for worse.  
  
Everyone was getting tired; neither Alicia nor Lavian teased him or Agrias.  
  
***  
  
"Good night lonely-boy," Alicia called out tiredly as she followed Lavian into their shared bedroom.  
  
"Sleep well," Ramza called after Alicia as she closed her door, alone now in the room with the table. True to her word, Agrias and the others had meticulously arranged Ramza's beddings. He found it amusing, seeing as how little they seemed to mind when they were out in the field to sleep in the dirt. Wondering if the 'fairer' sex was like that, Ramza found the topic almost funny.  
  
Ramza stared down and found himself shaking his head at himself. Over the years, he had mellowed down when it came to girls and then to women. However, being in close proximity now, and the fact that none of them wore armor that shattered their femininity, made Ramza a little uncomfortable. Well, a 'good' type of uncomfortable, Ramza thought. Seeing the knights in night clothes again made Ramza feel, well, happy.  
  
Knowing he had nothing else to do but sleep, Ramza slipped into the sandwiching layers of blankets Agrias and her knights had somehow procured from nowhere. Even the last few real beds he'd slept in had not felt this good.  
  
He had blown out the last few candles illuminating in the room, but he left a stub of a candle on the table burning, just so if anyone needed to use the room in the night, they would not trip over anything, especially him.  
  
Ignoring the flickering shadows the meager candle supplied, Ramza stared at the ceiling, wondering what thoughts he would entertain before oblivion claimed him.  
  
***  
  
In her and Ovelia's room, Agrias shared the large bed with Ovelia. Tired as both of them were, both indulged in another activity they had not been able to perform for a long time.  
  
There was an art to keeping their hair healthy, and Agrias didn't consider herself conceited to fiercely maintain one of the few visible aspects of femininity that female knights were allowed.  
  
Agrias prided herself as being able to run with -run faster than, she bragged- the boys, but she'll also be the first to admit that there were still things that she could only do sitting down (1*).  
  
***  
  
As Ovelia began to brush Agrias now-dried hair into order, the Holy Knight took a look towards the door.  
  
Ovelia would've used that as an opportunity to tease her uptight guardian if it hadn't been for the fact that she let slip mention of her kidnapper, which had set Agrias to be more alert, not relaxed.  
  
"I think that he may not be our real enemy," Ovelia murmured.  
  
Agrias shifted as Ovelia brushed. "I cannot allow myself to believe that. If we had not intercepted him at the falls, you would have been in Goltana's influence." Agrias leaned back as she shifted again, forcing Ovelia to shuffle on her knees on the bed. "On the other hand, Larg also wishes you under his thumb."  
  
Ovelia replied tiredly. "Agrias, we'll talk of this enough tomorrow with the cardinal. Is there anything else we can discuss?"  
  
"Your kidnapper," Agrias murmured. "You've taken an interest in him. . ."  
  
Ah, revenge, Agrias thought, pushing her heads forward, as if to tug the answer out of Ovelia. The truth was, Agrias wasn't being truly playful, but trying to find out herself just how much her ward was influenced during her days of 'captivity.'  
  
Of course, Agrias considered any attraction to Delita from Ovelia was foolish. What confused her was the fact that Delita was also a Holy Knight, not of the same order though, and in the Nanten Knights -Goltana's elite corps. Regardless who his master was, Delita showed no allegiance to them, and Agrias naturally detested rogue agents. Serving one's lord was one thing, but manipulating both friend and foe alike was abhorrent to Agrias.  
  
"What he said, that he was like me," Ovelia replied nervously, "that he was like us, human, why did he point that out?"  
  
Agrias sucked in a breath as Ovelia's query took her aback. "Because that's something we need to admit, not just know." Agrias wanted to make a denial, or to disregard the kidnapper's words, but her conscience wouldn't let her, indicating something that Agrias knew she was avoiding. "Maybe that's the side he's on," Agrias said out loud.  
  
". . ."  
  
"If he's not working for Larg or Goltana, maybe he's one of the few that do want to change things for the better. . ."  
  
"You mean he's for the peasantry."  
  
Agrias felt a rebuke coming on, but held it back. "As much as we want to deny it, we do see them as different beings from the nobility." She wondered why she was sticking up for the kidnapper -a cause of much consternation, and she attributed it to what her conscience felt. "It doesn't mean I sympathize with him," Agrias finished, almost snorting at how her seemed to favor the kidnapper.  
  
Wondering how the conversation had gotten steered this way, Agrias just gave up. "We're both breaking our promise to leave this kind of talking alone."  
  
"What else is there to talk about," Ovelia told her sadly. Agrias was surprised when Ovelia slipped a wide, short ribbon around her hair and wrapped it in a band. "Wait, this will keep it safe while you sleep."  
  
"Oh. . ." Agrias replied. "Whatever happens highness," Agrias told her, facing the princess, slipping back into formality, even if they were both clad in sleeping clothes on the same bed, "always remember that people out there believe and support you. We'll be doing whatever we can to make sure there's something that brings you joy to think about."  
  
"Can you apply that pledge to yourself as well?" Ovelia said sadly. "You're duty is to me, but I want you to be happy as well."  
  
"I'll do what I can." Agrias didn't feel so uncomfortable, even with what Ovelia was insinuating with Ramza.  
  
***  
  
In the other room, Ramza tried not to listen to what conversations were going on in the Agrias' and Ovelia's chamber. It was a mild discomfort the way their fading voices kept on attracting his attention, luring him against his will. He wondered if it was about him. Ramza did have somewhat of an ego, but a lot of it was fear. It had been so long since he had been around people he could consider peers that he had ceased to care about what others thought of him so much as what he thought of himself.  
  
Needlessly said, Fort Zeakden changed him, that battle -against his own unit, the Hokuten, changed Ramza. He still wondered if he was obsessing over the battle or if he truly took the lessons inflicted to heart.  
  
In that act of rebellion against his brothers, Ramza thought he had truly severed his connection to what the Beoulve name entailed in everything but spirit. Yet, in a sense, his brothers won the victory against him as he could still rejoin the Hokuten. . . somehow.  
  
That was a thought that made Ramza feel shame and discontent. He had betrayed the Hokuten and slew some of its number, yet, should he choose, Ramza would be allowed back into the fold, simply because of his name.  
  
Ramza knew he should not be thinking about this, but it was still a line of thought that he knew he had to confront -repeatedly. Even as a 'Beoulve', Ramza knew he was beneath his brothers.  
  
He knew he was illegitimate, having been born by his father's mistress. So, even if he was above the rest of the Hokuten, he was beneath his brothers. He was alone. . . yet Ramza felt enough pride in what he thought he represented.  
  
To serve and to protect the populace, and to uphold the law -that was what Ramza thought he fought for. . . duty to everyone under his care.  
  
Later on, he realized, even as he graduated from the academy by being sent on an immediate field mission to root out bandits in Gariland -a dubious coincidence Ramza considered, that he held himself above others except his peers.  
  
"A naïve hypocrite," he said softly, describing himself as he was then.  
  
"Teta," he continued gently, "Alma. . . I thought I was good. . ."  
  
Ramza felt himself holding back a tear. "I thought I was doing good then. . . was I?"  
  
***  
  
***January 7th, Year 2. Lionel Castle***  
  
Exhaustion catching up with them, all slept through the night. Upon waking, Agrias woke Ovelia up and when they went into the front room, found only Alicia and Lavian there, finishing the remnants of breakfast for them. Agrias saw that Ramza's beddings were neatly tucked away, and although Ramza's armor was still in the room, his sword and dagger were missing.  
  
"How late is it?" Agrias asked.  
  
"Not late enough," Alicia quipped, yawning.  
  
"It is still early," Lavian replied calmly. "It should only be eight o'clock in the morning."  
  
"We've been waking up before sunrise a little too much," Alicia tossed in, wiping her hands on a cloth that was folded on her lap.  
  
Agrias nodded before addressing what the day would bring them. "Has the cardinal brought us any word?"  
  
Alicia shrugged. "Yeah. . . a servant brought us a planner from him," she replied, lifting up her plate and taking out a piece of parchment from beneath it.  
  
Not commenting on Alicia's choice of a placemat, Agrias took the message and read some of the day's schedule. She nodded. It was what she expected.  
  
"Both of you," she told the other knights, "It's a holiday. . ."  
  
Lavian nodded pleasantly, satisfied. "Are you sure?"  
  
Agrias only shook her head. "Don't even try the humility act. . . just enjoy yourselves for today. Its only the princess, myself, and that Mustadio boy that have to see the cardinal."  
  
"Ramza too," Alicia said as she was chewing on her last dinner roll for breakfast.  
  
"Excuse me?" Ovelia inquired, not quite hearing right.  
  
Alicia gulped self-consciously, almost choking as she swallowed the still-intact piece of bread. Gasping and after pounding the table lightly with her fist, she spoke up. "The messenger told us that the cardinal said that your 'mercenary,'" she spoke, imitating the messenger's smarmy and condescending tone, "should be there since the cardinal knows that all three of us will be staying with Ovelia and he thought that only Ramza would be available to escort him."  
  
A wave of annoyance roiled over Agrias; she forgot about that little detail. The princess and her bodyguard detail would be staying here until they were relieved, or unless the cardinal escorted them all the way to Lesalia. But, they still had Mustadio to look after, and the only one of them that could leave the princess' presence was Ramza. This lead her to one conclusion. Damn it!  
  
"Where is Mr. Ruglia?" Ovelia asked.  
  
"Fresh air. . ." Lavian remarked, "I think he was going to be exercising."  
  
"Armed?" Alicia threw in sarcastically. "That servant did mention several of the local hotshots wanting to challenge 'The Princess' Champion.'" Alicia shook her head. "That man was horrible! Insults on one hand, compliments on the other. . . none of them even mentioned challenging you, boss. . . immature little boys."  
  
As Agrias' eyes opened in alarm, Alicia sucked in a breath, finally seeing Lavian shaking her head warningly at her. If anyone was expecting more of a reaction, they were disappointed. During the rest of breakfast, as Alicia and Lavian stayed at the table, Agrias kept silent, thinking, mindlessly filling her stomach, having lost her appetite.  
  
***  
  
Feeling aggravated towards Ramza -who she thought must have answered at least one of the challenges, Agrias knew she could not seek him out in the castle. The fact that he wasn't leashed to Ovelia the way she was irked Agrias. Well, he'll be with us when it comes time to see the cardinal before noon, she consoled herself. In her mind, it was complete idiocy to face off for the sake of machismo.  
  
Wondering what the protocol was when formally meeting with the lord of Lionel, Agrias thought she should wear her armor, which was currently being cleaned and prepared by Alicia and Lavian both. She brought out her formal dress tunic that was a thick deep blue, the folded back collars revealing the internal weave was in gold. Her collars covered the thin leather gloves she wore. Then came her thick leather corset, also deep blue, representing the lower half of her torso's protection. She almost laughed at her tunic's semi-skirt, which didn't cover her front, but was split in the back. Her leggings were thick, but loose leather, only reaching immediately past her knees. Underneath her toughened leather pants was a pair of silk hose that covered her feet, meant to keep her from being chafed. Her boots rode high, hugging more than halfway on her calves.  
  
Her clothes bordered on the elaborate, but their simple trim also exemplified her as a soldier. Even the cloth material was reinforced with multiple weaves, meant to absorb heat, while her leather pieces were thick were her body stretched, and thin were her body contracted.  
  
However, Agrias was already beginning to feel hot. She forgot how well armor insulated one's body as well as trapped any moisture. As Alicia and Lavian began to equip onto her the mithril plate breastplate, Agrias consciously kept herself from sucking in a breath.  
  
She knew that her armor would still be scuffed, dented, and warped in several locations, but it was as close to parade dress as she could come.  
  
Any of the castle cities maintained excellent armories, and though Lionel's smith was not her armor's creator, that person could be trusted to repair and to readjust -which Agrias hoped was unnecessary- her suit of armor, as light as it was.  
  
Originally, in the war, she wore much heavier protection with armor covering her upper arms as well as shielding her knees. However, they had proven too strenuous, and painfully, soldiers learned to value light weight, mobility, and increased endurance over the heavy armor. Gone was her pauldrons and poleyns: the pieces of armor that protected her shoulders and kneecaps.  
  
Agrias wasn't quite dressed for war, but she came very close. With her sword's frog wrapped around her corset's waist, all that was missing was her shield.  
  
As to why she never wore a helm, an armored headpiece was only worn in peacetime by soldiers posting guard or involved in some other martial activity. The armored helm symbolized open hostility, and attracted attention, especially since they were the first thing shed by troops for their discomfort over long periods of time.  
  
A stark contrast to Ovelia, clad in fresh set of replacements for her monastery robes. Even in that humble environment, Ovelia's status favored her, her off-white robe gilded with saffron filigree, whilst she wore a cinnabar mantle.  
  
"Do you wish to do anything before we leave to meet with Cardinal Draclau?" Agrias asked.  
  
Ovelia shook her head. "We might get lost."  
  
"Alicia, Lavian, could you find us someone that can guide us to the cardinal?" Agrias told them. "After that, the day is yours."  
  
"With pleasure, ma'am!" Alicia quipped, quickly yanking her partner along. Agrias had forgotten that the two carried civilian clothing in their luggage.  
  
Ovelia giggled. "Were they afraid you would cut their free time short?"  
  
Agrias just shrugged, a smile replacing the mute expression on her face. "They are soldiers. One of their missions in life is to enjoy it as much as they can get away with."  
  
Ovelia just nodded.  
  
***  
  
Habit being formed out of years of institutionalization, Ramza found himself exercising. He did not do so to push himself, but to slow his decline, to ensure that his condition stayed as it was. Drill was bloodless combat, and combat was bloody drill. That was a maxim ingrained into him before he had entered the Gariland academy.  
  
The Lionel soldiers were amazed when he came into their barracks to perform physical training alongside them. Ramza had woken before dawn, walked down to the kitchens, and ate breakfast with the servants. While there, he reminded the staff about what to do with his companions when they woke up.  
  
A smirking Kim came back, dragging a sleep Mustadio into the room. When Mustadio had complained about being risen too early, Ramza told him plainly, "You will not be enjoying this shelter forever. Your discomfort will be worth your life."  
  
"I've gotten used to running from them for weeks," Mustadio had complained.  
  
Ramza had not commented further, having made his point. After his breakfast in the kitchens, he had Mustadio follow him. "I don't expect instant results or an immediate improvement, but you need to condition yourself."  
  
"I have been. . ." Mustadio went along the same lines again.  
  
Ramza shook his head. "As prey. Your weapon makes you dangerous, but it shouldn't be the only thing that defends you."  
  
Mustadio acquiesced to that, and the two of them found themselves trying to keep pace with the Lionel soldiers. On the run around one of the walled in gardens in the castle, Mustadio fell back, but Ramza slowed down to calmly keep pace with the struggling engineer, making sure he kept running, but not forcing him.  
  
"Focus on the architecture," Ramza told him, showing some winding in his voice, "you have to occupy your mind on something else: it won't be so painful."  
  
Not wanting to argue, Mustadio did as Ramza advised. His body still ached, sore, tired, and aching for water, but somehow, Mustadio found himself still running. His pace grew slower with fatigue, but he still kept going forwards. "Focusing on the pain doesn't do me any good, does it?" Mustadio wheezed, trying to make light conversation.  
  
Ramza just twisted his wrists as he ran. Mustadio took that as a shrug.  
  
They were on the last stretch now, and even from the distance, Mustadio could see the sneers on several of the finished runners. Ramza was the one really being made fun of, and Mustadio was grateful that he stayed behind to keep him on the run.  
  
There was no last-second sprint, as both jogged to the end of the run at the same pace they had kept for most of the circuit.  
  
***  
  
The cold weather in the morning was something Ramza appreciated. He didn't sweat as much as he would have, plus, he did not feel so fatigued. What he wondered was why he stood there now, in an open room in the barracks, his sheathed sword held in his left hand, across from one of the resident soldiers.  
  
"Ramza. . . don't they have practice swords for this?" Mustadio called out to him from one wall of the spacious training room. It was remarkable in its sparseness. There was literally nothing in the room but people, no decorations, no fixtures, none except for several places in the wall that held extinguished torches. There were windows cut into the stone wall facing the inside of the castle, providing light,  
  
Deciding against telling Mustadio his intentions, Ramza nodded. "They are not necessary."  
  
"You're going to fight with blades?!"  
  
Ramza shook his head, and his opponent answered for him. "We were dumb enough to enlist, but we're not that stupid." Ramza chuckled, agreeing. "There's some things that we think the servants don't need to know, and this place is off-limits to them. We want to hear anything that this mercenary can tell us seeing as it concerns what may happen to us in the future." He handed his weapon to a young squire who came in between the man he was opposite to, collecting both of their weapons.  
  
"I don't understand. . ." Mustadio said, confused.  
  
"They are talking about the civil war that's coming," Ramza explained dully. His voice was serious, lacking any pleasant tone. He waved his arm to invite the other soldiers closer in. "They didn't believe the cover story. Anyone could tell that the heir-apparent to the throne, especially with a dying king," Ramza raised his voice, "will not travel this far escorted only by a handful of bodyguards, a single mercenary, and a refugee," which Ramza indicated Mustadio as instead of a hunted figure.  
  
"But the soldiers from Zaland. . ."  
  
"Ovelia would've been escorted by a complete unit from Lesalia, and it's a long way from Orbonne to Zaland." Ramza clarified. "They," he meant the soldiers in the room with them, "are going to hear this from the cardinal himself. It won't hurt for them to know just what and why they might be fighting for."  
  
"We're all on the same side, right?" Mustadio concluded.  
  
"And he's part of your force?" a man wearing an archer's uniform of a green tunic and dull red pants blurted.  
  
***  
  
Alicia and Lavian had managed to 'induce' a wandering squire. An actual squire who had just begun his training for knighthood at the age of eleven. Agrias kept from giving them a disapproving glare as it seemed the squire was very, very apprehensive.  
  
"We didn't force him!" Alicia blurted out, causing her partner-in- crime to wince.  
  
Agrias took a breath, knowing that the answers she had found out about her subordinates' personalities only lead her to more confusion and frustration.  
  
Ovelia took this moment to diffuse the situation. "He's just nervous."  
  
Immediately, the boy fell to his right knee and his right hand, staring down to the floor as he knelt and bowed his head forward. "Y-your highness."  
  
"Rise, sir knight," Ovelia told him pleasantly, the boy's bringing her pleasant amusement.  
  
"I-I'm just a squire, your majesty," the boy said, afraid of even passively correcting her.  
  
"It was an honest mistake," Ovelia said charmingly, soothing the boy, feeling sorry for him. A more experienced -and jaded- squire would not have dared to correct her. She felt comfort in comforting another. It was one of the few times when the influence -not power, which was nil- she possessed felt positive.  
  
Deciding to save the boy from both terror and embarrassment, Agrias stepped up. "Could you please take us to the cardinal. We have a meeting with him in an hour,"  
  
"Of course," the boy remarked crisply, before nervousness taking him over again. "The cardinal will not return from a service in town for over an hour."  
  
Agrias nodded, calmly taking the news, acting that way on purpose to loosen the tension the poor page/squire was inflicting on himself. She glanced over at Ovelia. "We have time to tour the castle."  
  
"Our escort is a little light," Ovelia said playfully. "Why don't we find Mr. Ruglia and ensure that all of us arrive there on time."  
  
Agrias blinked, then sighed as she turned her attention again to their nervous guide. "Would you happen to know where my little mercenary has gotten himself into a fight?" It was only after she finished her sentence that Agrias realized that she slipped in her reference. She didn't look where Ovelia could meet her eyes on purpose.  
  
"One of the barracks I believe," the squire replied as crisply as he could.  
  
Well, I guess we are going to go sightseeing first, Agrias thought.  
  
***  
  
"So both the white and black lions are against the crown?" One of the soldiers, clad in the armor of a dragoon, called out, making a conclusion from the facts that Ramza revealed. The armor wasn't unique to Lionel. It consisted of heavy, thickened leather pants with attached boots which were strapped onto the lower section of the breastplate so as to not drag down the armored infantry's mobility. From the waist-up, he wore plate mail that was purposely an unfinished gray. For effect, the dragoon wore a one- piece helm whose fixed visor resembled that of their namesake, a dragon's crown. The ears were a stylish addition, one that was detrimental, in Ramza's opinion.  
  
"It looks like it," Ramza told him, wanting to say otherwise, since he knew that he was overstepping what he was sure of.  
  
"Gallione against. Zeltennia?" a knight spoke up.  
  
"With Fovoham and Limberry declaring for either one," Ramza followed.  
  
"Lesalia's going to get torn apart, caught in between four provinces?" the same knight followed.  
  
"We can reinforce them!" The dragoon threw in.  
  
Ramza shook his head. "It wouldn't matter. You wanted to know what might happen, this may be it."  
  
"Keep going, we're all taking this with a grain of salt," the archer bade Ramza. "Why do you say its hopeless? The Church has its own military corps bastioned on Murond. That island bastion will never fall to anything. Plus, we control the Southern Front, so we can flood reinforcements into Lesalia.  
  
"Just like we did in the war?" Mustadio piped up. Although a few of the soldiers gave him a glare implicating him as both traitor and outsider, most of the rest grudgingly agreed with his outburst, as ill-timed and provocative as it was.  
  
"Neither of them would try to take the capital province if they are both fighting each other and they each only have a third of Ivalice's military," Ramza went on, realizing that he was treading on the hypothetical. "Plus, Lesalia's bound to be compromised already."  
  
"How many of their front-line units are already garrisoned there?" another soldier inquired.  
  
"The Hokuten and the Black Sheep already have their tributary units (2*) established in the capital," the archer spoke.  
  
"Along with the Nanten, as of two weeks ago." Ramza appended.  
  
The dragoon chuckled, squeezing his gauntlets at his side. "It really is inevitable, isn't it? The first-strike and elite units of both Ivalice's lions are being garrisoned in the capital as opposed to our borders? Unless Romanda has infiltrated a full division into the population." The last sentence was laced with sarcasm.  
  
"Peasant revolt?" a chemist threw in as a hypothetical.  
  
"That comes after those northern bastards tear each other apart!" the archer bitterly countered.  
  
"We can still stop this, if we intervene!" the knight burst out.  
  
Ramza chose to step out of the conversation at this point. Although he knew it was right to tell them that which he was sure of, he also knew that he was fanning the flames. Discipline meant that one followed orders. It didn't matter how ridiculous they seemed, except that they were created for a reason, and one had to place faith in those orders just as the officers had to place trust in the men and women who executed those commands. Yet, there were some things that should not -for the sake of morale- be hidden from a soldier.  
  
"And that is what we are here for," Agrias announced in a clipped tone.  
  
Naturally, some of the people in the room turned their attention to the voice of the new speaker, whose voice was new to them.  
  
Ramza met her bemused glare without flinching, nodding at her, giving her an open expression. He wasn't denying that he did something wrong, but he also made it clear that it was what he felt was right. In other words, he believed he was justified. There would be no apology.  
  
"Is it time to meet with the cardinal?" Ramza asked.  
  
"We have some time yet," Ovelia spoke from behind Agrias. Ramza was the only one unsurprised by that. The princess walked forwards as Agrias secured a position in the room, noticing how all the Lionel soldiers were appraising her knight, she continued on speaking. "I am touring this castle, as well as meeting with its residents."  
  
Taking a sidelong look at the reactions of the other soldiers, Ramza knelt and bowed his head forwards. Following his lead, the others soon followed, and only Agrias, Ovelia, Mustadio, and the apprehensive squire that was their guide were left standing in the room filled with almost a hundred people.  
  
"You may rise. . ." Ovelia said awkwardly, feeling a reprehensive that she potentially embarrassed a group of soldiers who if anything, were supporting her. Tentatively, she wondered what she would say next, as the soldiers automatically came to casual attention. None of them would speak until she left the room or addressed them directly with a question. "About what Mr. Ruglia has told you. . ." she began, giving a helpless look towards Ramza. "I will not deceive you," she told them honestly, wondering why it felt so good to release the truth like that, as if the secrecy was eating away at her from the inside. "The chances for war are great, but I have come here to seek your cardinal-" she halted, "your help," she amended, "to prevent war from ravaging Ivalice again."  
  
Ramza and Agrias both felt out of sync as the other soldiers in the room saluted firmly, giving a collective grunt. There were things about group unity and pack mentality that appealed to them. Startled by the spontaneous display of respect, Ovelia looked at Ramza, the only one in the mass of soldiers that had not participated; Mustadio was standing up against the wall, simply looking on, curious.  
  
"Relax. . ." Ramza said calmly, striding towards Agrias and the princess. He was thinking about the loyalty of these soldiers. It didn't hurt for the princess to personally impress potential supporters.  
  
Not knowing what else to say, Ovelia gave a light nod of her head, knowing that these men and women were committing their lives -and their loved ones' lives- to the breach by supporting her. "There is no reward great enough. . ." she mumbled.  
  
Their eyes catching, Ramza and Agrias took a sobering breath as they agreed; no, there isn't.  
  
What have you done? Agrias pondered in her mind, wondering if Ramza recruited a full company of mixed soldiers for the princess. You can't be real. . . Agrias thought, exasperated -yet proud.  
  
***  
  
Lead by the adolescent squire -Macaulay was his name- Ramza walked behind Agrias and Ovelia. Mustadio was actually ahead of their guide, looking around curiously at how the castle was built.  
  
For better or for worse, Agrias waited until they had left the Lionel soldiers of that barracks to talk to Ramza. She ignored the local squire in front of them. "Why did you talk to them about our situation?"  
  
"They are allies," Ramza pointed out.  
  
"Not yet," Agrias countered. "Being too open will backfire on us -it isn't your own welfare you hold in your hands."  
  
"If they weren't for us, we are already dead," Ramza pointed out.  
  
"I. . . I value their loyalty in me," Ovelia said, stopping the escalation of frustrated arguing between the Holy Knight and the mercenary squire. "Yet, I agree with Agrias: we haven't talked to the cardinal about our situation in-depth yet."  
  
Slowing her step to fall in beside Ramza, Agrias turned her head to him. "I trust you. . ." she whispered. "But you confuse me so often. . ."  
  
"As you do to me. . ." Ramza gently replied. "It isn't all in our hands anymore."  
  
"And I'm thankful for that. . ." Agrias admitted. Secretively, she sought Ramza's hand in hers and she was surprised to see him anticipate her and meet her groping attempt in his grasp. Again, she detested the lack of feeling she received because of the heavy gloves she wore. Agrias appreciated it still, breathing audibly before separating from him and taking her place with the princess.  
  
"I thought the cardinal's office was located in another level of the keep," Ramza pointed out, bringing up what he had learned from the castle's residents.  
  
"You're right," Mustadio agreed from where we paced ahead of the group. "This corridor looks familiar."  
  
Shrugging, Agrias took a look back and gave Ramza a knowing look. "I don't know, but you do need to prepare for the meeting."  
  
"I lack a uniform. . ." Ramza replied.  
  
"Gafgarion doesn't believe in them!" Agrias cracked. "Your armor is enough," she told him, giving him a helpless smile.  
  
***  
  
"At my first opportunity," Agrias told him bluntly, "I'm going to take you to an armory."  
  
Ramza nodded, shrugging. "This was my first suit of armor that I purchased with my own funds. More or less, we were only meant to fight bandits." He watched Agrias carefully as he said that statement, and she gave him an indulgent look.  
  
"I have better armor protection than you and yet my armor is only half the weight." Agrias pointed out.  
  
Mustadio grunted. "Doesn't matter anymore." Everyone knew what he meant. Soberly, he continued. "Guns are beginning to catch on. Their still expensive and atrocious to maintain. . ."  
  
Agrias shuddered. The idea of a such a weapon. . .  
  
"I agree. . . better to never get hit at all, but sometimes you'll take being encumbered -even slightly- to being mangled by something a thin piece of metal or leather could've stopped."  
  
Agrias took a look at her mercenary. Ramza had worn a hay-colored, long-sleeved shirt with dull red thickened leather pants cut to accommodate his battle boots. She realized that the red matched his eyes. The boy was so pale in some spots that she had seen last night that she wondered if he was albino. His hair wasn't pale enough though. . ..  
  
Ramza's purple breastplate was patched and dented, yet the visible damage and abuse on it added to its image to reliability. With Ramza's calm and accepting demeanor, the battle-worn armor had a sense of dignity.  
  
Agrias caught herself thinking about him too much and told herself to get back to business. Taking a look at Mustadio, she asked him, "Do you need to prepare?"  
  
"I'm wearing everything that I own."  
  
There was pity to be found in that statement, as well as something Agrias found almost disturbing: something that almost resembled contempt towards the disenfranchised. Condescendence? Agrias asked herself. She walked into the other room. "Princess?" she politely addressed Ovelia, "There is nothing left to do before seeing the cardinal."  
  
Ovelia gave her a pretended petulant look. Although her robes and mantle made it difficult, she laid down on the bed and laughed. "But I don't want to!" she said in a mock-whine.  
  
Agrias just laughed. The humor was out there, but that's what Agrias thought they needed.  
  
***  
  
"This is the chapel. . ." Mustadio commented, straying ahead -again- of the guiding squire.  
  
"So it is true," Agrias said from where she walked immediately to the right and in front of Ovelia. "He does work from the altar. . ."  
  
Ramza kept any statements to himself as they walked down the corridor. It was located on one corner of the keep, as evidenced by one wall decorated with stained glass windows. He didn't lag behind, but Ramza did not know where he fit. To be safe, he chose to follow Ovelia. Since Mustadio was ignorant when it came to etiquette, he was excluded from this code of conduct.  
  
When Agrias and Ovelia crossed the threshold into the chapel itself, Ramza looked on as both kneeled and crossed themselves, before walking down the aisle towards the raised altar. Ramza did not kneel, but gaze forwards at the back of the chapel, at the altar, having questions he knew he shouldn't ask. He didn't follow them immediately, instead walking over to a stand of candles. He looked upon row and row of lit candles. His breathing slowed.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," he heard a familiar woman's voice say behind him. Turning around, he saw Kevin sitting in one of the pews on the left side of the back of the chapel. Right behind Ramza had been Kim, who had gotten out of her seat upon seeing him. She held a purse up to him and offered him two candles. She gave him a sad smile, and he was grateful that she did not say what was on her mind -which was obvious to all.  
  
Ramza took the two, giving Kim an appreciative -yet somber, expression. He remembered that now, he only needed one candle to be lit in remembrance. As he sheepishly tried to give her back the second candle, Kim shook her head, telling him, nodding her head towards the stands of candles. "Not all of them represent someone that was lost. . ."  
  
Ramza nodded, and Kim was satisfied with that simple answer, and returned to her pew, sidling herself against Kevin, who just gave him a 'what-can-you-do' expression.  
  
Taking the candles in his right hand, Ramza was very careful. With his gloves, layered on the wrist side by metal tabs sewn onto the leather, Ramza had no real sense of touch, the feeling of the candles -waxy, soft, and vulnerable- lost to him. Taking the first, he lit it from one of the other candles. Holding the candle at an angle for a few seconds, Ramza waited as it began to cry molten wax. Finding a place on the edge of the stand, Ramza cemented the weeping candle with its dried tears.  
  
Ramza looked down at its partner in his right hand.  
  
"The past, the present, or the future?" Agrias asked him gently, causing Ramza to turn towards the altar. Just in front of him was Agrias, standing there, regarding him with a sad expression. She didn't wait for him to respond, but stood closer to him, taking a look down at the candle she planted. Eyes of oak met eyes of blood and Agrias had her answer for what the candle symbolized to Ramza.  
  
Ramza offered the candle to Agrias, looking upon her tenderly and with his own sorrow. His smile was of sympathy, not of joy.  
  
As Agrias raised her hand to refuse, she held back, instead touching the back of Ramza's hand with her left, taking her covered index finger and running it down the metal plate on the wrist of Ramza's glove. "A prayer. . ." she told him, holding his eyes.  
  
Ramza exhaled audibly, agreeing. Awkwardly, both of them tilted their linked arms, using the flame from the first candle, and held it there, mesmerized as they stared into the glow of their candle. It was only when the first rivulet of waxen tears fell onto Agrias' gloved hand that they left their moment of peace.  
  
Together, they watched as their candle wept, not for what had been lost, but out of relief and gratitude for what may come to be, for being able to survive to that point. Agrias felt a small release occur as she took both their linked hands down and planted their hopes and prayers on dried tears.  
  
Still holding his hand, Agrias turned and took a look towards the altar. She caught sight of Alicia and Lavian sitting in the pews up ahead, giving her looks, but Agrias did not care, not wondering why they were in the chapel. Even as Ovelia gawked at her awkwardly, making no attempt to shield her curiosity  
  
The moment was still Ramza's and hers. Even if separated in the future, their prayers and hopes were the same. Agrias drew comfort and security from that. Ramza squeezed her hand.  
  
From his perspective, Agrias almost glowed. If it wasn't for the fact that Ramza placed their candle besides where the first was on the edge, Ramza could not tell which one it was from the multitudes of other remembrances, prayers, and symbols of gratitude that so many other people set there, in this place.  
  
To him, the candle was not temporal. That flame of hope would burn forever now. . . for the longest time, it was his alone to bear, to shield from despair, something that he clung to. With Agrias, Ramza felt that it was something he could live by.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
*Footnotes:  
  
(1*) Here's the 'dirty' joke: It refers to how Agrias has to go to the latrine as compared with the 'rest of the guys'. . . immature, yes, but what toilet humor isn't?  
  
(2*) A tributary unit in this reference are other military units that are connected to a main unit. An example of this would be their baggage train, a medical detachment, a group of engineers, and of course, actual combat units that are green or non-elite in status that they use to fill their own ranks with after depletion (discharged or killed).  
  
As in, if the Nanten Knights suffered considerable casualties after a battle, during refitting, instead of downgrading its size or rooting through fresh recruits for reinforcements, the Nanten could pull soldiers from a specific unit or two that is similar to itself (sort of a field- training unit), and those new troops would be more or less properly trained to fulfill what the Nanten needs, as opposed to taking even a veteran soldier from another elite unit who has no idea as to what the Nanten is about or what he needs to do to assimilate.  
  
*End Footnotes  
  
Finally, the story becomes more political. . . and I made it personal again at the end. . .  
  
The power of personality and that of physical presence -yep, Ovelia's gaining a small following. Nothing like the threat of Civil War to make a person choose a side and fight for it.  
  
Not meaning to condescend, but I want to point this out: This becomes important in due time in the story.  
  
I wanted to cover Ovelia a bit more, and I'm thinking that I'm making her too strong a figure, but then again, she's being raised on some level for this.  
  
Note how the responsibility, power, and authority is technically being forced onto her.  
  
Ramza's acting more independent. . . boredom I guess, as well as his personal convictions coming to the fore.  
  
Yes, this was an indirect way of me explaining the backdrop of this story, with the soldiers talking amongst themselves (note how Ramza is left behind in the conversation) about the possibilities of war, and I had to throw in the peasant revolt bit -not quite foreshadow, but a few of those soldiers (hey, its mixed peasantry and nobility in that room) have to be bitter themselves about the caste system.  
  
I wanted to go a bit further with this chapter, but then I remembered, its been over a month since I've seen that scene (where Draclau talks to them) and I'm going to make mistakes. Lazy me hasn't gotten around to replaying that. . . as well as I liked where I ended the scene.  
  
I don't want to go into detail describing that segment. . . I tried to make what I wanted to get through obvious, and its one of the few times I just wrote on symbolism, theme and emotion and yeah. . . stuff!  
  
If you've noticed the semi-perspective changes often in scenes where there should only be one real viewpoint (Ramza's or Agrias'), kudos. I write a lot of the story in between periods of time where I have nothing else to do. . . I really do need to commit myself more.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
First off. . . kudos to Teknos Warhammer; reviews like that more or less render Author's Notes and Readers' Response Corners' redundant. Thank you for understanding so easily.  
  
Hmm, to tackle a few concerns raised:  
  
Minka-chan. . . when the 'marriage' remarks came up, it wasn't Agrias saying that she WANTED to marry Ramza at that point (irony considering the chapel scene you just read. . .). There was a lot of teasing and exaggerating going on. However, for an 'old maid' like Agrias is (age 21- 22. . . and she isn't hitched yet? That's ancient in Ivalice unless she's a widower or a divorcee), yeah, Ramza is something to kill for, and being a soldier, I would assume Agrias would know to take happiness when she can, even if it may or may not conflict with her duties (just how much of a distraction Ramza is hasn't been cleared up yet).  
  
Digression time: I'm sorry if I get this wrong, but you're female, aren't you? Sorry, but by the way that you talk (type), you seem very feminine and young. Moving back onto the main thread. . .  
  
At this point, Agrias knows she more or less wants Ramza, but then again, with her personality. . . its a long, long road, yet, Ramza is there to accelerate it, wanted or not. And yes, there will be problems because of that (damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. . .). I'd like to go more along this point, but that'd be committing myself to plot events that I haven't written down yet.  
  
By the way, I forgot to thank you and the others for giving me links to potential source and background material. I really appreciated that ^_^. I'm still trying to find unmodified profiles of Ramza (with the purple armor) and Agrias since I'm trying to create a wallpaper of sorts to decorate my desktop.  
  
If I ever get the materials I need for that pic project, anyone's welcome to ask me for a copy.  
  
Also, Harvey might edit a compilation of the entire story -to date. He will not be posting it on fanfiction.net (too lazy to repost all the chapters and it's a violation of fanfiction.net's rules to post duplicates). Reason: He wants to standardize the story and to check for minor and massive errors.  
  
Well, Ilvinaeda. . . yes, Alicia does have a coarse sense of humor. When she brought up the 'sweaty stud,' she was pointing out to Agrias that even she (Agrias) has hormones and is attracted to the opposite sex (as opposed to telling her superior that she has a hair up her ass the size of a bridge cable -that's out of line even for her) like anyone is and Agrias is fooling only herself if she thinks that she isn't.  
  
I can't really apologize since that IS how I want Alicia's personality to be like: Open and very expressive, not just in happiness, but also in anger.  
  
She's a foil to Lavian, who's more of the bookish, reserved type. Lavian is probably even more a stick in the mud than Agrias is. Scary once you think about it. . .  
  
She does have a libido too, as well as picking up some of Alicia's sense of humor.  
  
By the way. . . don't become defensive about your review. Its my job as an author to cover my ass (its so easy to offend others. . .) so there isn't any confusion.  
  
The reason I ask people to comment on my portayal of the characters, especially the female ones, is because I have no definitive idea of how they think. I have no clue. . . and I sometimes wonder if I am taking things out too far.  
  
Ah, Highwaywoman. . . I'm glad I didn't disappoint. Yeah, as to the song, well, I figure it was the perfect thing to go along with Agrias' hormone rush (look, seeing Ramza half-naked, glistening with water in a towel HAS to draw a reaction out of her. . .). Just imagine if Ramza was actually moving along to the music.  
  
As to the breaking part. . . its inevitable, and hopefully, Agrias doesn't become melodramatic as she's drifted towards in a couple of segments.  
  
I can say this much about the future of the story. Within a week, it all goes to hell.  
  
Other songs I am considering: (and yes, I am aware that I haven't written a single word in the first ACTUAL SongScene to be released).  
  
*Sixpence None the Richer "Kiss Me"  
  
Its nice, its romantic, and most important, its very open. I think Agrias is capable of singing something like this. She's not the Ice Queen. If anything, I figure she's most relaxed during the storm since people like her will prepare and anticipate beyond reason about how to prevent it (if possible) before it occurs.  
  
*Fuel "Shimmer"  
  
Nice, and some of the emotions seem similar to "Hemorrhage", except this would be in the hopeful stage. Thing is, this is Ramza singing this to someone else asides from Agrias. Alma maybe?  
  
*Sel(i or e?)na "Dreaming of You"  
  
I intend this to be sung by Agrias while seperated from Ramza and/or after their relationship has (its not a matter of may, I'm not stupid enough to be so indecisive or deceptive about that intent) reached a 'certain' level.  
  
*Aretha Franklin "Rescue Me"  
  
I finally found the artist who sang this song best. . .  
  
As to why. . . well, take away the repetitiveness, and it is going to become very, very ironic in reference to what happens to Agrias after Ramza leaves to take Mustadio to Goug. Yet, this song has to be clipped (I can only use part of the song since it repeats so much).  
  
Black Chocobos:  
  
*The Cardigans "My Favorite Game"  
  
It has the emotions I want for Agrias, yet, the lyrics repeat too much. . . plus I don't want to write the story so it fits the song.  
  
*Metallica "Nothing Else Matters"  
  
Yes. Exactly. Ramza singing with that type of deep voice. Yet, the song itself seems appropriate. It deals with the trust issues quite so well including the entire outcast (heretic) angle that develops later in the game's storyline.  
  
*REM "Losing My Religion"  
  
Self explanatory. Might be a good duet or alternate singer song. However, its too stretched out. Background music yes, not as something to be sung really. . .  
  
Comments thus far on Truth and Reality's soundtrack?  
  
The tracks on my Soundtrack playlist on WinAmp3:  
  
Goo Goo Dolls - Iris (Acoustic) Lifehouse - Hanging By a Moment Evanescence - Bring Me to Life Vertical Horizon - Everything You Want Garbage - I Think I'm Paranoid Fuel - Shimmer (Acoustic) Sixpence None the Richer - Kiss Me Three Doors Down - Here Without You Aretha Franklin - Rescue Me Sel(e or i?)na - Dreaming of You  
  
And of course. . . Crazy's Town's "Butterfly"  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	13. 12 Conflict of Interests

***Author's Notes***  
  
Here's the completed version of the chapter. I've done some proofreading (well, if you could call skimming it once and trying to find superficial flaws proofreading).  
  
As always, the notes and replies have been replaced.  
  
Also, the genre of this fic will now be Drama/Romance. The story is really beginning to lean that way.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-12 "Conflict of Interests" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 12)  
  
The cardinal arrived at the chapel alone. Nodding fatherly at Ovelia, he walked up to them. "You've done well Macaulay," he told the young squire that was Agrias' guide, dismissing him. Wordlessly, the squire paced away, his shoulders slumping as his duty was done and he was now free until someone found a use for him again.  
  
The cardinal looked around, examining the people in the pews, gazing calmly at them. He turned to faced the chapel's entrance; he saw several families beginning to assemble, looking upon him. He lifted his hand at them benevolently, and several of the children broke formation from their parents' sides to rush the cardinal. The older children looked bored as they stayed back, looking as if their attendance wasn't voluntary.  
  
Ovelia and Agrias made way for the little ones, happy to see children around them. Ramza stood his ground, watching them run around him, intrigued by their spontaneity and joyful intensity. Mustadio chuckled, sitting in a pew by the aisle, and making playful gestures with his hands at the little children who had not swarmed the cardinal yet.  
  
Ramza noted how the cardinal doted affection on the children. It seemed kindly, grandfatherly, but he thought he saw something else. It almost looked like casual contempt to Ramza, which confused him. The way Draclau kneeled and blessed the children was suspect.  
  
"Cad-nal, Cad-nal!" one of the children said, tugging more insistently on Draclau's robes than the others. "Who are they?" the boy asked.  
  
Ovelia smiled at him, noting his worn clothing. By the redness that covered his skin, she could tell that his parents had just forced him to bathe. "I'm a princess," she told him gently, feeling embarrassed.  
  
"Really?!" several exclaimed in unison.  
  
Agrias had a soft smile on her face. Normally she viewed children as devilspawn, but that was upon seeing them from a distance and just thinking about -and judging- them. Now that they were in her immediate vicinity, she couldn't see them as she had before.  
  
"Mm-hmm," Ovelia hummed to them. "And this is one of the knights who protect me," she continued, pointing her right hand at Agrias.  
  
"Huh?" one of the children said. "But isn't your knight supposed to be a prince?"  
  
"Yeah!" the other children agreed.  
  
Mustadio was the first to begin chuckling as Ramza kept his hilarity to himself, which earned him a glare from Agrias as she interpreted the implication.  
  
"Oh!" Ovelia said, shocked. Then she began to giggle. "She's not my prince charming," she assured them, feeling uncomfortable, and then pointed Ramza out. "But he is her knight," she remarked coyly, adding an obvious tone that the little ones were guaranteed to pick up.  
  
"Ooh!" the children collectively cooed.  
  
"She's blushing!" a boy obnoxiously called out.  
  
"Meanie!" a girl chided him.  
  
It wasn't that the children tormented her, but Agrias did feel completely embarrassed. "Make it stop. . ." she mouthed tiredly.  
  
Ramza shook his head at her. He nudged his head towards the knot of anxious parents who looked on, their interest in such important figures overridden by concern for their offspring. Agrias recognized some of them as soldiers from the barracks she had found Ramza in. "So that's why they fight. . ." she murmured to him.  
  
***  
  
With the number of people in the chapel worshipping, and the nature of the case being presented, Draclau led them into a side room of the chapel, which was the actual priest's office. For a simple man that the cardinal was lauded to be, it did seem ornate, but it had more dignity with its aging furnishings than opulence.  
  
From the other side of a round table meant for several people, he regarded them sagely. From his robes he procured a bundle of scrolls.  
  
Everyone arranged themselves, with Agrias taking Ovelia's left side while Ramza took her right, and beside him was Mustadio.  
  
Making his opening statement, Draclau lifted his gaze from the bundle of scrolls to Agrias. "I understand your situation Agrias," he said simply.  
  
A brief pause followed, as Agrias wondered what would happen then. The statement could have meant everything or nothing; a pledge of total support, or bait to leave her open. She blinked that line of though away harshly.  
  
"Moreover," Draclau continued, "I'll send a man to the High Priest in Murond."  
  
Ovelia sucked in a gasp at the mention of the head of Ivalice's Church. Long ago, the island remainder of Murond had gone completely autonomous, having no liege lord, but a priest who controlled a massive corps of shrine knights -zealots and templars who fought for The Lord, not the semi-fanatic holy orders throughout the rest of the land who served mortal lords.  
  
Draclau caught Agrias' eye, nodding. She shivered in fear. As much as she hated it, she was sending Ivalice into war. Withdrawal was always an option, Agrias knew, and her allegiance to the crown almost wavered. With the involvement of the 'Army of St. Ajora,' only total war was sure.  
  
The Church, the Nobility, and the Peasantry were going to be involved in a triumvirate of slaughter that would leave Ivalice scarred even worse than how the Fifty Years' War mangled the land that saw her birth, childhood, adolescence and her lost of innocence.  
  
Her thinking drowned out Draclau's immediate following statement until she blurted a question -one that was unnecessary. "Will High Priest Funeral help us?" she asked.  
  
Draclau regarded her casually, almost with humor. "Don't worry Agrias," he told her, firm in his tone, a hard edge in his sunken eyes, "I'm with you." He changed his tone, almost as an afterthought. "You must be strong to make the princess feel at ease. Make yourselves comfortable in this old castle until word comes from the Holy Land."  
  
How? Agrias wanted to ask. War couldn't be stopped. . . but I'm helping to start it. God. . . I didn't want this. . . she thought, the urge to cry beginning to be felt. Turning to her right, she saw Ramza openly looking at her. At that moment, she wanted to touch him, and her emotions screamed at both herself and him to do something, to reach out, just so that she could feel comfort. Anything that would make her feel better. . .  
  
Even Ovelia noted her discomfort, as the princess' speech was slurred. "Thank you for your kindness," she spoke with a tone of confusion, feeling surreal as she was beginning to recognize what Draclau was implying by throwing the Church into Ovelia's camp.  
  
Draclau let some of his emotions show, revealing a man who was tired. "St. Ajora is with us," he remarked slowly, having trouble putting conviction in his voice as he told them, "don't worry." Clearing his throat, he turned his attention to Mustadio, who had lingered in the back of the group, having retreated there. "Young mechanic," the cardinal said firmly, "I heard your wish too."  
  
Ramza felt bothered, noticing as he winced, that it wasn't that the way the cardinal looked at issues was different from his, but that Draclau treated it in a cavalier manner. The rogue Beoulve thought that his former liege lord, Larg, could still be openly brought up on charges, but that would leave the other lion, Goltana, with the hunting grounds to himself. The church's corps were crack troops -most of whom were ex-soldiers- but they were not numerous. On the flipside, neither lion could ever claim moral superiority against the Church, who would doubtlessly have no trouble raising troops from the peasantry, if not outright converting existing military units.  
  
"I'll send troops to Goug to destroy Bart Company," Draclau remarked casually, as if it was easy as ordering a soldier to hit the town on pay day.  
  
"Thank you. . ." Mustadio replied, his tone astonished.  
  
Unreal, Ramza agreed with the mechanic's feelings of surprise and confusion.  
  
"But," Draclau replied, proverbially trapping Mustadio, "would you explain why they're after you too?" The question that Mustadio would not even tell the princess.  
  
"I. . . can't. . ."  
  
Agrias almost snarled. She knew she was upset, and she grew annoyed at how stupid Mustadio was being.  
  
Draclau smiled thinly. "That's all right," he told him, as he reveals a ruby sphere that encased a burgundy stone. "Is this it?" he asked rhetorically.  
  
"What is that crystal," Agrias blurted out, wondering why the cardinal had such interest in a fancy decoration; even she was not that attached to jewelry.  
  
"Have you ever heard of the 'Zodiac Brave Story?'" Beneath her stress was the feeling that he was treating them much the same way he did the children. It wasn't a favorable comparison in her eyes. No adult really took that saying literally.  
  
"You mean that fairy tale we used to hear in church?" Agrias winced and her voice shrank even before her sentence was finished. She had just played into his hands, and she knew it when she saw that smile on the cardinal's face.  
  
"Here now!" the cardinal admonished mildly, as if trying to guide her. "Are you saying the church lied?"  
  
Agrias was trapped, and Ramza saw it. Even if the cardinal was being benevolent, he felt that the man was going too far. They were in his thrall, and the man was almost toying with them - and there was the thought where Ramza believed the cardinal almost callous, cavalier about what may happen.  
  
"N-no," Agrias replied, startled, "I didn't mean that. . ."  
  
Ramza wanted to intervene, but knew that he was not expected to speak until spoken to. Like most, he found the idea of simply being there with almost no active role bothersome.  
  
However, Ovelia stepped in, beginning to recite. "Long ago, when the land was much different, twelve brave warriors fought against the evil Lucavi (1*) who ruled the land. After a desperate battle," she continued, taking a breath, "they sent Lucavi into Hades and the land was peaceful." She was beginning to get an idea of what Draclau was implying. Her voice began to slow, and it was not because she was forgetting what it was she was repeating from memory. "They each had crystals with zodiac signs on them; they were called 'Zodiac Braves.' Ever since then, whenever humans are attacked, the Braves come to save us. . ." she trailed.  
  
"You're quite learned Princess. Just as I expected."  
  
Agrias frowned at that statement. It bordered on the patronizing.  
  
"Mr. Simon taught me at the Orbonne Monastery." Ovelia felt like she was being interviewed by a tutor. Appraisement was a situation she was never comfortable in. It never stopped, but she was able to shield herself from most of the interest that people tried to hide about her. She brought up something else that she remembered, which she guessed was why Draclau had revealed the strange sphere. "He also said St. Ajora and the Braves saved Ivalice from chaos."  
  
As one, Agrias and Ramza's hearts went cold. A weapon, they simultaneously concluded, trading glances.  
  
"We call the crystals 'Holy Stones.'" Draclau confirmed. "This very stone," he paused and hefted the sphere he held, "is the legendary secret stone, the 'Zodiac Stone.'"  
  
With a hint of disbelief, Ovelia replied, "I didn't think it really existed." She began to think just how important a decision it was to sheleter Mustadio.  
  
"They say the stone's 'Divine Power' surpasses Lucavi's." Draclau could not keep out the contempt in his voice. The Lucavi were the devils that everyone was taught to fear and hate. A topic that Ramza found questionable in a way of living based on love and kindness. "I feel a strange power, but it looks like an ordinary crystal to me," the cardinal reflected.  
  
"What's wrong, Mustadio?" Ramza asked deliberately, knowing that now was the window of opportunity to get the engineer to talk. So this is why he's said nothing. . . Ramza concluded. "You look pale," he commented, feeling disdain at himself that he was resorting to such an approach.  
  
Draclau provided the extra pressure. With the same caring appearance he had for his flock, the cardinal regarded him. "You saw the same stone underground Goug?" Again, it was in the same voice with which Draclau spoke to children.  
  
Mustadio knew he could not hide it any longer, so he gave in. "Many broken machine parts are buried there," he began. "But if the stone," he paused, "gets near the machines, they start to howl."  
  
Power? Ramza stated through his eyes towards Agrias, who was now looking at the engineer. As she blinked, he almost felt her reply.  
  
"Bart Company's after the stone, right?" the cardinal continued persistently, but softly, like he would coddle a child into confessing what was wrong. First, you had to make the subject comfortable, unafraid of reprisal. . .  
  
Mustadio's voice quickened. "I don't know what power the stone has. . . but Rudvich," he named Bart's owner, "wants to use its power to make weapons." That confirmed Ramza's thoughts. "My father told me never to give the stones to him. So," he said defeatedly, "they abducted him."  
  
Agrias' upset state was growing stronger again as she saw what was in Ramza's crimson eyes; the transformation from calm to excited, yet keeping the same nonchalant façade.  
  
She knew he was going to leave, but not with the shade of death in his eyes. Blood would out, and Ramza cared little if it was his or theirs - so long as he accomplished his mission. She thought back to others that resembled some of his traits -all of them dead. They all shared one feature before she saw them before the battles in which they fell - that expression in their eyes.  
  
She could not stop him. She did not have the authority. Not anymore. . . she thought, feeling afraid, paranoia, anxiety, and what she felt about Ramza overriding her logic.  
  
"Don't worry Mustadio," Draclau assured him. "The church will see to his safety." Unceremoniously, he followed, "While our men fight, we'll get the stone back."  
  
Unaware of anything to say, finding the experience surreal, Mustadio just shrugged. "Y-yes, sir."  
  
Nodding at Agrias, and painfully shutting out the image of horror reflected in her eyes and her beloved visage, Ramza stepped forwards. "I'll go to Goug with you," he informed Mustadio, indifferent to how the boy seemed relieved by his words. The cardinal's your only real support here, Ramza wanted to say, not Ovelia, nor Agrias, nor I.  
  
She knew she wasn't being completely rational, but Agrias knew that she could not turn Ramza back. Within a day or two, he would leave - that was his nature, and she suddenly came to one line of thought that she had not considered in the few days -a week that spanned eternity- that she spent in his company. It was he that would slip out of her grasp.  
  
Agrias wondered why it felt as if he was leaving her. Then, reality came crashing in. As she expected, within several days he would be gone. And all she could do at the castle while he courted death was pray.  
  
Torn, Agrias moved from where she had anchored herself at Ovelia's side. "We made it this far thanks to you, Ramza," Agrias said numbly, unable to say more.  
  
Feeling Agrias' unease, Ovelia concurred. "I wish I could've been more help," she said. "Please be careful." Even she winced at that, knowing that her words had probably sent a shard of terror into Agrias' heart.  
  
Surprised, Ovelia could only stare as Ramza did not have eyes for her. His eyes. They frightened her. Even his (2*) eyes were not that intense.  
  
"That's very thoughtful," Ramza said in a flat tone. "Don't worry. We'll be fine."  
  
Agrias wanted to strike out at him.  
  
***  
  
After the meeting was concluded, Ovelia left with the cardinal to tour the castle personally. Since the cardinal had no guards accompanying him, and it was clear to Agrias that it was going to be a discussion that was best left unheard, she did not protest when Ovelia dismissed her.  
  
I am a soldier, Agrias repeated to herself. I serve, I do not rule.  
  
She was still upset. Before, she had only marched and fought where she was ordered. Now, she was becoming part of the process that would likely drag Ivalice into civil war. On a different emotional line, she feared for Ramza.  
  
Angry that a man would affect her like that, taking away from her sense of duty, Agrias chose to focus some of her anger at him. She knew she was being irrational, but that knowledge did not alleviate her anxiety.  
  
As she scanned the chapel for Alicia and Lavian, she noticed that they must have already finished. She lonely, and looking back at the rows of lit candles that were in the back of the chapel, she noticed that Ramza and Mustadio had already left.  
  
Retreating to one of her most solid foundations, Agrias walked to one of the pews, kneeled, and began to pray.  
  
***  
  
"Where are we going?" Mustadio asked. "Shouldn't we have waited for them. . ."  
  
Ramza just continued to walk down the corridors. "The details aren't for us to know. They also need time."  
  
"Oh. So, where are we going?"  
  
Ramza pointed to a group of guards. "I'm trying to find someone who can lead us to the armory. Both of us need to upgrade."  
  
"We're going to be equipped this quickly?"  
  
"The faster to save your father,"  
  
Mustadio did not like that statement, and he threw back, "I thought Agrias was going to be the one that outfitted you."  
  
Ramza shrugged, nodding his head as another armored squire on sentry duty came to attention. He turned his head to look at Mustadio sidelong. "She has her own concerns. It is best if she is not bothered."  
  
"If you say so." Helplessly, Mustadio could only take Ramza at his word.  
  
"Sir?" the squire asked. "Is there anything you need?"  
  
"Could you tell me how to get to the armory?"  
  
"Which one sir? The armourer or the armory?"  
  
Thinking for a moment, Ramza shrugged. "I require both."  
  
"Pretty or functional?" the soldier put bluntly. Mustadio had expected him if anything to ask how much money Ramza would spend. "Um, sir," the man continued after realizing his slip.  
  
"Something a soldier would use. I'll trust someone the soldiers would with their lives."  
  
The guard chuckled. Turning around, he hollered down the hallway. "Anderson, please, show them to the smith."  
  
***  
  
Upon reaching one of the blacksmiths -there were several in Lionel Castle- Ramza found himself being greeted familiarly, the middle-aged, scrawny smith who resembled a bookkeeper more than a metal shaper.  
  
"Don't worry," the blacksmith told him in a friendly manner, pointing to a young female archer -Ramza guessed from her cut-off gloves and oversize boots- who gave Ramza a belittling smile, though her heavy breathing ruined it.  
  
"Some woman -Agrias-" the archer panted, her short auburn hair mussed, "told me to tell you that the cardinal's decided to bankroll you - a bonus or something." She paused for a moment, giving the blacksmith a grateful look as he gave her a pitcher of water with a cup attached by a string. "Almost broke my neck running here," she muttered. "Also, the cardinal commented that he hopes if you don't mind if we outfit you as a dragoon. If you're going to be mounted on chocobo, a spear is better than a sword."  
  
"I'm not as proficient with the spear as I am with the sword." Ramza cocked his head towards Mustadio. "He needs body cover too, as well as a backup weapon."  
  
"You're the gun-boy?" the archer regarded Mustadio warily, who carefully nodded, now painfully aware of the weight on his hip. "Can you handle a bow?"  
  
Mustadio gave her a look, and she laughed. "A dagger will do - I guess. A plain one's best since you'll have less to worry about if you cut yourself."  
  
"Sarah, refrain," the smith admonished her.  
  
Ramza had stepped up to the man. "I'm sorry, but would it be best if we started now?"  
  
"One of my assistants can take care of him. . . first, let's get you measured."  
  
"Um, Mr. Ramza, I'm going to have to run back and tell them that you received the message," Sarah pointed out. "Is there anything you want me to relay?"  
  
"I appreciate it," Ramza told her. "There's nothing I could say that would mean anything to the cardinal. . . could you tell Agrias that-" he trailed off as he saw that Sarah had already began to sprint away.  
  
"I'll send her your love!" she called back.  
  
Ramza could only stare as Mustadio busted out laughing.  
  
***  
  
Rising from the pew, Agrias had to make a decision. As he respected her to fulfill her duty, she would have to relinquish some control to him so that he could do his. Even if she felt that he was seeking his death.  
  
If that meant separating herself, then she would do it.  
  
He too, had his role to act out, and if he was trying to get her attention, then let him.  
  
She suppressed her resistance to such a thought.  
  
The fact was, Ramza knew that he was straining her, yet he continued upon his path. He may or may not have had the choice to change his conduct, but the point was he did not.  
  
Bitterness aside, Agrias felt that it was what she needed to do. No use fussing over what I can't help, she thought to herself. She looked over at the closed door that lead to the chapel's office. Hypocrite, her conscience accused. (3*)  
  
***  
  
"He said what?" Agrias replied coldly. She has made sacrifices before, and they were never times that she cherished. Yet, they were necessary. The smile the other woman had only served to harden what she had already concluded:  
  
Duty came first.  
  
Agrias had never possessed any vices, so she did not have experience with things getting in the way. All her life, she had devoted herself to something, a cause outside of herself. Somewhere she belonged.  
  
Why did I even think there was something in him? Agrias asked herself.  
  
Feeling awkward, Sarah stepped back. "I'm sorry. . ." she said, "I just assumed."  
  
"Everyone has." Agrias knew why it hurt to say that, but she suppressed it.  
  
"He's going to be in the armory for a while," Sarah told her.  
  
Agrias just nodded.  
  
"None of you know the layout of the castle," Sarah commented, "so, if you want to go see him-"  
  
"I'll be at our quarters," Agrias explained.  
  
Sarah just stopped trying.  
  
***  
  
"Aren't you cold?" Mustadio was wondering why Ramza, sitting shirtless on a stool in a fitting room with several squires, was not shivering. While Mustadio was still fully clothed, Ramza had given his clothes - which he told the smith was custom tailored to him - to the armory's staff. All he wore now was a gray towel at his waist.  
  
Ramza shrugged. It had already been an hour, and yet he still did not have any goosebumps. "You get used to it."  
  
"Why is it so cold here?"  
  
"We're underground," one of the squires spoke.  
  
"Which is why the air is thicker here," Ramza surmised.  
  
"And stronger too," another squire joked.  
  
"Mr. Ruglia?" a female squire poked her head into the room, giving the men a malicious smile that deflated any egos they may have had to that point. "We're ready for the next step now. The tanner is here."  
  
***  
  
"Mr. Ruglia, you have got to be one of the few people that came in here that we could fix up this quickly," the tanner commented.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Your clothing," the smith joined in. "They were made to be fitted with armor on - specified for your body especially. All we had to do was to make some traces."  
  
"It can't be that fast. The last time I was-"  
  
"Was your first, too," the smith interrupted. "Pardon," he excused himself. "Your bronze armor was a piece of work. Crude, but effective." He turned to the tanner. "It was too. With the shape it was in. . ." he turned to Ramza. "Just what kind of action have you seen?"  
  
Ramza shrugged. "Small-scale engagements. Most hits were minor." He hefted the arm that had been hit by an arrow. "The damage was minor and there was a healer there."  
  
"I'll chalk that up to the healer, not this," the blacksmith commented.  
  
"You mean you didn't feel them touch you," the female squire directed at Ramza.  
  
The smith agreed. "She's right. Good as it is, with all the stress fractures that I've found on the inside, this thing would've cracked pretty soon."  
  
"How bad will it be?" Ramza clarified himself. "I'm going to depart soon -within several days. What can I expect?"  
  
"It won't be perfect, but it'll be better than a pot."  
  
***  
  
Over his thin linen tunic, Ramza had been given a pair of sleeves that extended up his arms and tied into his hands at one end, and to each other behind his back. They felt rough, but it was only because of the items durability. These would prevent the metal he would soon wear from chafing him. He wouldn't rely on heavy folds of reinforced cloth anymore. He stood by the smith's office. It wasn't a room in itself, but an organized, very clean space set aside in a corner of the man's forge/armory. Sarah introduced him as Mr. Venn, novice armourer. The furniture was sparse: rought-cut, thick, and sturdy, made from oak.  
  
It turned out that outfitting Mustadio had been child's play. He had even maintained his color scheme of yellow and blue, trimmed in leather red. No custom fitting was required; the soldiers had let Mustadio run free through the selection like a child. He still had a yellow shirt, but it was like Ramza's now: loose, baggy -for ventilation- and thick. It looked large, but they were designed to be difficult to snag. The material was thin in the proper section, but it was thick on the sections of the arm away from major joints. It would cushion, and serve as padding against the heavier pieces of equipment worn. The actual 'armor' was a conspicuous vest of sewn mithril scales with a distinct azure hue. The scales were large and chevron-shaped, not interlocking. There was internal wiring within to reinforce the weave. The pants were of the same canvas-like materials as the shirt, dyed blue. His gloves now were thin around the fingers - so that he could still manipulate objects with dexterity, but there was metal plating on the wrist. He now wore proper battle boots, and by their oversize nature, Ramza guessed that there was likely a dirk hidden in each.  
  
To top it all off, Mustadio had gotten a blue archer-style hat with a feather, and within that hat's lip was a metal band.  
  
"Now, if they always went for the centers of mass. . ." the smith quipped. "Reason why full-body armor exists."  
  
"Every little bit helps," Mustadio said helplessly.  
  
Turning his attention back to the smith, Ramza asked, "What can you accomplish in such little time?"  
  
The man shrugged. "Your case is as hopeful as it can be. First, we have all your measurements and we can measure the features of your used armor. Second, you're going to be armored as a dragon. That's mostly leather anyway. Its not going to fit like a glove, and it won't be pretty, but it'll work."  
  
"Good enough," Ramza concurred.  
  
***  
  
Ramza felt snug in his leather cuirass. The near-black leather fit him comfortably, although he felt much warmer than he did before in his shell of purpled bronze. It covered his upper torso, just barely covering the top half of his stomach, meant to protect his chest, upper back, and around the shoulders. It also served as the foundation piece of the rest of his upper protection. Around his waist an even thicker ring of leather that wrapped around his abdomen. It was of multiple layers of leather, and within was a band of mithril scales.  
  
His leather leggings he did not know the name of. Simply that they actually had straps that extended over his waistpiece to lock onto his cuirass. His legwear extended all the way down to his calves, they ended, underneath a pair of thin socks tucked within, and then the steel-toed boots came in. These rose halfway up his hip before their straps reached up and locked around a belt he wore.  
  
He could tell that the soles were incredibly solid, and Ramza could feel just how much leather he was wearing on his legs alone.  
  
"Did they use a whole dragon's hide?" a knight commented, laughter in her eyes. "Crazy dragoons," she commented.  
  
"Which is why we have all these straps tying them up to your waist and chest," the tanner had told him. "Red dragon would explain the shade. It looks constrictive, but its tailored to transfer some of the load to your upper back and abdominals.  
  
"Its not substitute for plate or even mail," Mr. Venn told him. "But its been treated to be tough."  
  
"The cardinal's special stock, dragon skin - leather, whatever you call it," the tanner commented. "Its been enchanted - just a little. It's a wee bit more resistant to physical and magic attacks."  
  
"The metal wouldn't be the same way, would it?" Ramza inquired half- heartedly.  
  
"It doesn't need it," Venn quipped.  
  
Ramza looked on as the tanner turned to his peer and berated him. "You don't have to be so arrogant."  
  
"No. . ." Ramza disagreed. "If he had no confidence in his work, he has no business being near a hammer."  
  
***  
  
While the smith molded and hammered his future metal shell, Ramza was encouraged to run through a set of maneuvers by himself, testing out each section of his leather layers. He was please since the dead weight he moved with his legs only felt twice as much - instead of the minimum six- fold it must have been.  
  
Still, Ramza knew, running would kill him. He had never been trained to wear a full suit of armor. He had not advanced that far, and it was only in the massed bloodbaths that such troops met.  
  
"You act like you were trained to be a knight, but now you're a mercenary. Plus, you're too young to have been in that war." the female knight from earlier commented. She had introduced herself as Tabatha, and she was in the armourer's forge to repair her armor as well as have it adjusted -which none of the males chlose to comment on, especially since her hand was on the haft of her sword as she told them about her situation.  
  
"I was, in the Hokuten" Ramza told her, and before she could ask, he continued, "my only real experience then was chasing bandits, and the steel just slowed us down."  
  
The woman snorted. "Thieves?" she had a laugh at that. "You're right, I would never have caught them."  
  
Ramza shook his head. "They were Death Corps, actually." He noted from the way the woman's smile died that he had struck a nerve. He did not excuse himself.  
  
"Is that why you left?" she asked him soberly.  
  
"I'm not that noble," Ramza said, trying not to find irony in his statement. "I was forced into a decision where instead of acting for better or for worse, I simply stood back and let it all fall apart."  
  
"Ramza was your name, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Beoulve," Tabatha said out loud. She began to chuckle. "Ramza? Ramza Beoulve!"  
  
Keeping still, Ramza just remained silent.  
  
"I wasn't introduced to you face to face, but someone did point you out when I was visiting the Gariland academy about four years back. So, you did run away." She rose, having a confused look on her face. "If you're worried about it, don't; I'm not going to give you away."  
  
Ramza shook his head. "It really doesn't matter."  
  
She shook her head. "If the rumors are true, and you did fight the Hokuten, I think its more complicated than that."  
  
Shrugging Ramza stared into his gloved hands, wondering why they were made so light -without any metal backing, beginning to feel warm. The heat that he wasn't experiencing was not because of the layers of leather that he wore over linen. \  
"Well, at least you're not making excuses," she remarked, giving up on trying to get an answer from him."  
  
"I left because my conscience would not let me stay as I was. . ."  
  
Tabatha frowned, appraising him again. "A noble who left everything over a question of morals?" She almost began to laugh, but she caught herself, thinking about her voiced postulate. "The only thing I found wrong with that is that it's the nobles like you that should be in power. . ."  
  
Dully, Ramza replied, "I've thought about that." He shrugged. "I feel more satisfaction just serving instead of ruling."  
  
The knight appeared to ponder, and told Ramza, "We'll have to talk about this again. You're brothers aren't exactly that popular either. . ."  
  
"Are you implying that I should claim the Hokuten?"  
  
"If you meant what you said about serving." She shrugged. "You only fought them because they were committing treason -you were justified; it was you who was in the right. I'm not pledging myself to you, but, if you really are true to your conscience, how can you do the most good to benefit everyone. You can serve best by ruling, or at least, making sure its good people who rule."  
  
"Truth hurts," Ramza admitted. "It's a duty I know I might have to fulfill someday. I don't think I'm that strong a person. My brothers. . ."  
  
"You have a heart," Tabatha assured him. "When you return from Goug, we'll talk about this again. I'm going to be busy along with the rest of the soldiers."  
  
"Its only going to accelerate the situation if the mobilization is obvious. There can still be a diplomatic solution, but Queen Ruvelia isolated herself."  
  
"We're all praying for it," Tabatha said, shivering.  
  
***  
  
"There's a whole castle and countryside to explore, and you stayed here?" Agrias said as she entered their quarters, knowing as she saw soft humming coming from the knights' bedroom.  
  
Reclining on a small bed tucked into a corner of the room, Lavian wore a pale yellow sundress, the skirt reaching past her knees as she sat with her legs tucked underneath her on a cushion. Agrias felt some envy, staring at the classical beauty that Lavian was. From a distance at least. The few years of service had taken their toll. Where Lavian should have appeared to be a maiden, barely above a score in age, she had a mature appearance now. Lavian began her career a little after Agrias'. The difference: she was enlisted whilst Agrias had attended an academy.  
  
She still possessed the soft slender lines, her loose dress hiding the conditioned flesh beneath. Lovely would have described Lavian, even with her detached, almost reluctant attitude to socialize. But, Agrias noted, Lavian's hands were as rough as hers.  
  
Like Lavian, Alicia was in her bed, dozing; Agrias could see Alicia's toes wiggling in annoyance as the insubordinate knight tried to sleep in.  
  
Looking towards the doorway at Agrias, Lavian shrugged. "Fatigue is finally catching up with us. I'm finding myself more and more tired every day."  
  
Alicia snored.  
  
***  
  
Still wearing her armor in its formal state, Agrias sat on a short stool, staring at a wall, wondering how she had come to this state: having nothing to do, except to think, and trying not to think about the upcoming bloodbath -if everything goes wrong, Agrias told herself.  
  
Politely, Ovelia had dismissed her, and Agrias had to acquiesce. The cardinal could protect Ovelia far better than she. Agrias would have defeated the man in the field even in his prime decades ago - with or without his allies, Agrias was confident enough to believe- but she couldn't protect Ovelia politically. As Agrias grunted, she wondered why she felt a small pang of jealousy. I hope I'm not developing a complex of responsibility, Agrias grumbled to herself. Its nothing, she's been in danger, and its understandable that you'd be paranoid - it's your duty! she concluded.  
  
She had not been especially relieved when the cardinal announced that he would dedicate a small detachment of his own men -women, Agrias corrected herself- a mirror image of the bodyguard detail the Order of St. Konoe assigned to Ovelia. Jealousy and pride, she told herself, trying to rationalize her negative feelings. She had no doubt that they would be experienced soldiers, if anything, she knew that they would be all-too- tailored for this role. Knights were good guards, but thieves were even better - knights were visible. Agrias admitted. . . those that were responsible for spying and assassinations would be even more effective at preventing them. Not like they would have been much help, Agrias reflected, thinking about the types of missions that were involved in Ovelia's 'security' as of late, discounting the recent time spent in the castle.  
  
Sighing, Agrias had to admit, to have such petty concerns was a good sign. In comparison to what her fears were before -and her reasons for them- the situation may still be bad, but so much of the responsibility was taken off her hands.  
  
"Agrias?" Alicia spoke with a voice slurred from sleeping. "I forgot to tell you something."  
  
"What is it?" Agrias remarked, standing up and facing the more intense of her knights.  
  
"Forget everything you're thinking about," Alicia yawned. "Back to bed. . ." she murmured, slipping back into her bedroom.  
  
"I will. . ." Agrias said. After a moment of contemplation, and giving up on sorting through the blend of emotion and logic in her mind, Agrias began to unbuckle her armor.  
  
***  
  
Late in the day, the knights lounged about. Out of boredom, Alicia had arranged most of the groups' equipment on the floor, ready to take in for maintenance - should they ever find the will to get up.  
  
"How come healing spells don't get rid of the fatigue?" Alicia commented.  
  
Agrias cracked an eye open. She was surprised that she was beginning to feel drained too. Naps had always done that to her, sapping as opposed to replenishing. "Our bodies have finally caught up with us."  
  
"We've been pushed so hard for the past few days that our bodies are just beginning to adjust to no work, and the fact that we just stopped is a shock." Lavian explained. "Plus, its not exactly damage we are feeling, if anything, the pain you feel is your body healing. Cure isn't as good as we make it out to be. Its good for injuries, but not much more."  
  
"It vitalizes your life force as much as it treats wounds, but sometimes, it isn't enough. . ." Agrias murmured.  
  
"Don't tell me that even white magic can addict people," Alicia commented.  
  
"Excuse me?" This caught Agrias' attention.  
  
Alicia reached over into her satchel and retrieved a bladder with a medical symbol and text painted onto it in black. "I've known people that have been hooked on potions. . . but for the most part, they abuse the ethers."  
  
"Why do you keep pointing out things we don't need to hear?" Lavian brought up.  
  
"Truth's funny." Alicia commented.  
  
I'm not going to tempt fate, Agrias thought, keeping silent.  
  
***  
  
"Ramza's at the armory," Mustadio told the knights. "The people there said they're done with the rough-cut, but they want him around to test what needs to be fixed."  
  
"What?" Alicia yawned, waking up from her nap. "Who's where, how, why, and when?"  
  
Lavian made a calm appraisal of the engineer. "Mithril vest?" she asked.  
  
"Yes," Mustadio nodded his head. "Cardinal Draclau let Ramza and I have access to his armory. I guess since Ramza's going with me to Goug to help me look for my father, the cardinal wanted us to be safer."  
  
"New toys aren't going to save-" Alicia began, but caught herself. "Wait, both of you are going to Goug? But the princess is staying here."  
  
Mustadio nodded. "Oh, is she still talking with the cardinal?" From the cushion Agrias reclined upon -her armor removed- she nodded, opening her left eye to give the engineer some eye contact. She nodded. Mustadio shrugged. "Well, Ramza said that he would follow me."  
  
"I assume the cardinal will send some troops to accompany you." Lavian probed.  
  
"I think so. In a couple of days, ready or not, I'm setting out for Goug to save my father," Mustadio declared.  
  
Agrias ignored the glare Alicia gave her. "I hope you'll stay safe," she told him dully.  
  
"Goug's my hometown. Now that I have the backing of the cardinal, I'm not going to stop for anything that keeps me rescuing my father from those thugs. When the people catch wind of what's happening, then others will jump in too."  
  
Agrias lifted her hand from where it rose from the cushion, a subtle signal to the others to hold back any choice remarks they would have made at Mustadio's confidence. "Then, can you look out for Ramza too?" She asked.  
  
Mustadio shrugged, "Of course." He was oblivious to the doubt of the others in the princess' suite.  
  
"Do what you can. . ." Agrias remarked, her voice dry. She wanted to be mad at Mustadio just because he was the background cause of this dilemma that she hadn't resolved cleanly. Ramza was bound to push me past the limit. . . Agrias said to herself.  
  
She wanted to not care. Because if she didn't care, it wouldn't hurt so much.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Footnotes:  
  
1. Lucavi is referred to as a group of demons, not a single devil. 2. The male being compared to Ramza is Delita. 3. The author was having issues writing. The hypocrite statement implies that Agrias WAS worrying over something she could not help - the future state of Ivalice, war, or no war.  
  
I'm trying to be objective plot-wise as the moment, and the rest of this chapter went on to begin the foundations of what would happen in Goug after Ramza splits off by himself.  
  
Keep in mind, the only entities his party at this point are Mustadio and Boco. Of the former, I am thinking I am not including into the story enough, but then again, he might as well be an ACC to me - and as to them. . . yes, I notice I am falling into the trap of giving them bigger and more influential roles.  
  
Still, its assumed that they will be receiving an escort of soldiers. Meaning, the battle at Zigolis Swamp does NOT need to occur. I am still debating the role of that battle since it is insignificant.  
  
As to the armor thing. Yes, I know I am obsessing over it.  
  
As of now, I am trying to write thin detail since I just want to move the story along, so expect to see sparser narration in comparison to the dialogue.  
  
It was sort of fun writing Agrias and Ramza off on their own.  
  
To answer the obvious, yes, Agrias is pissed. To make it worse, Ramza will not back down; they haven't even talked about it yet. . .  
  
On the bright side, it only took about a single 'scene' to go over the day. Next scene will cover the second night @ Lionel Castle.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
Here's my reply to Demolisher: (Please don't harass this person)  
  
To the one with the name of demolisher:  
  
Zing! Owwie. . .  
  
With that out of the way. . . yes, you are correct. Let's address the one that hits hardest first:  
  
Yup. I want my story to stay on page one. Thank you fractal submissions. In this, I am shameless.  
  
BETA readers I do not use. I've given up on the idea of pre-readers since my first (real-life friends) have disappointed me, and I don't edit my chapters before posting.  
  
The one time I picked up an editor per-se, the guy GOT INVOLVED in my writing, insisting on elements I did not want in there.  
  
Moment it is completed - it is sent.  
  
The matter of grammar:  
  
*I write in a hurry. *I am lazy. *More often than not, I don't even proofread anymore.  
  
Focusing on the its and it's issues, I've always ignored that. I've learned English more or less phonetically and literally. I fazed out any memory of elementary school English classes. I've given up and went to 'its' as the catch all for both words.  
  
It would be thoughtful on my part, but I've always figured 'fuck it.'  
  
This is Harvey's problem concerning plot:  
  
He's writing a FRIGGIN HUGE volume of text that spans a matter of days.  
  
With the same amount of writing, most authors would have gone into a year or so of storyline.  
  
Look at the correlation.  
  
Its the way I like to write. Its not a matter of ability to change -its my contentment with my anal retentiveness concerning detail and the fact that I've spent days writing about what happens every goddamn second of a day.  
  
As to how I write the story when the two eventuall get split. . . I don't plan that far ahead tactically and I have no general strategy as to what I will commit to. . .  
  
Man, you have got to be the first person to come down on me this harshly, but hey, it was called for. Surprised it took this long to cheese someone off this far. . . (well, get someone to post as opposed to just toss the story altogether) You've pretty much commented only on the structure of the story, not so much the contents. Then again, many just say 'keep it up' -and those just make me shake my head and sigh.  
  
In fanfiction.net, I've always seen the 'reviews' section as a message board and a guestbook as opposed to actual 'reviews'. Understand this: I am doing this as a partial social exercise. I WANT to start conversations with people who read the story.  
  
I am immature. Intellectual, but that does not mean I will act accordingly.  
  
I figured the biggest reason you reviewed was because I was being too much of a little prick as an author, haven't I(?), as opposed to the actual story-text.  
  
Seeing as I believe in aggression and taking the initiative, I can't agree with your platitude.  
  
Sorry if I'm snapping back. I have been defensive throughout this. Eesh, if anything, I expected you to ding me for actually making my notes into a pseudo-message board as well.  
  
Hell, to be honest, its when I go back and edit my own works myself that I just get frustrated and stop. Yep, I was expecting to be out of Lionel (the whole province) by chapter 8 or 9 from when I first started writing. . . yes, there are overruns.  
  
-Harvey Bautista  
  
P.S. Yes, this will be in the update's RRC. Your review (of sorts) was too damn good (really) to not reply to.  
  
I know I'm really asking to get blasted:  
  
Can you come up with a more detailed review based more on the story?  
  
The rest of the RRC:  
  
Moving onto the others. . . yes, I realize I am focusing too much on the romance. I'm starved for affection and have no experience: thus my frustrations seep into my writing.  
  
Well, Highwaywoman, Agrias does want to stop Ramza, but again, nothing she can really do outside of being unreasonable. Her solution, cut him off emotionally so she doesn't feel pain when he leaves and should anything happen to him.  
  
It happens. Its unfair by and for both sides, but it does happen. 


	14. 13 Drifting Apart

***Author's Notes***  
  
Revelation: (No offense intended)  
  
I've been inserting a lot of my personal problems into this story. If you've been able to infer that conclusion, you have my congratulations.  
  
Its my way of acknowledging my issues, though I don't believe its done anything decisive since I haven't solved or confronted them.  
  
Namely, Ramza and Agrias are a mix of two people. Myself and a very special person. Ramza and Agrias for the most part represent extremes of myself. sharing aspects that are both harmonious and conflicting. However, enough hints of the other person is within them as well. I don't know if I'm wishing for this other person to read this, since I should bring it to the open with her, but she already knows -and hasn't called me out on it, and yeah. this statement won't clarify much, but sums up the situation quite nicely:  
  
EVERYTHING HAS GONE TO HELL, AND IT WAS ME WHO PUSHED THE SHINY RED BUTTON..  
  
This is a cry for help. It's a cop-out, but: I'm not good at connecting emotionally to other people.  
  
I'm currently frustrated and angry, but that anger has no real target but myself. Yeah, I'm having the wrong motivations about writing right now, but I'm taking advantage of what little inertia I have left.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-13 "Drifting Apart" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 13)  
  
In the sidechamber that Ramza had been waiting in, two hours had passed before the smith came in with several apprentices carrying the mithril plates of his armor.  
  
Since the plates were forged and molded in the inseam of Ramza's bronze armor, fitting the metal pieces had been swift, composed mainly of looping through the leather straps through the shallow loops that protruded from his armor. "I know you don't care much for décor, but I felt that I had to do this for you. The bars and leather came from the cardinal's own stock."  
  
"I appreciate it." Ramza knew better than to have any misgivings against anything extra someone went through for him. It was better to take the present with gratitude, no matter how insignificant or bothersome, if someone spent their efforts on you. "The color purple," he remarked.  
  
"A dark shade of violet, actually," Venn corrected. "Unlike your bronze outfit, this one doesn't have those spikes. Yes, they are intimidating, but they serve no purpose except to get snagged."  
  
"And the dragoon helm isn't?" Ramza countered.  
  
"True. Do you want the wings on the crown of the helm removed?" the smith asked.  
  
Ramza shook his head. "Its mithril; I know it takes forever to heat it to the point where it is malleable. I don't believe they will cost me my life. They may even distract opponents enough to spend effort trying to use them as protrusions to grapple."  
  
"If you have the initiative," Venn replied, shrugging. "Always looking on the bright side, huh?"  
  
If it was for the fact that the toughened and layered linen battle clothing he wore had been replaced by a thin slip of a linen vest under leather, Ramza would say that he felt the same. The mithril plate was almost as thick as the bronze that he used to wear. But, it was much lighter, as well as being much stronger. However, mithril wasn't tensile; it would shatter before it bent.  
  
The pauldrons that Ramza wore he believed were as close to perfect as they could suit him. They covered the outer edges of his shoulders, mildly overlapping with the mithril breastplate over his leather cuirass, and the impediment on his range of motion was negligible - he couldn't even tell. They were connected to his breastplate by more leather straps on the exterior.  
  
"Since you're not meant to be a walking shield, you only have so much metal on that a lot of it is suspended to your leather. Think of it as hybrid armor. Mithril's the perfect material since its best in a thin layer."  
  
"Dragoons don't wear mail. . ." Ramza murmured.  
  
"No, we don't," a man announced. "We rely on speed, not armor, unlike normal knights we don't just mass together, being juicy targets for an archer." Ramza turned to see a balding man in the armor of a dragoon enter the shop. Tucked into the crook of his right side was the helm that marked him as a dragoon, if the leather bottom, metal top armor did not give him away. "Since my men are going to be detailed to escort you as one of us, I felt it was imperative that I fold you into my platoon as quickly as possible."  
  
"I appreciate it," Ramza remarked, learning more of what the cardinal had arranged. "I've been trained in the sword and the bow. . . but I haven't had much expertise with the spear as I should for this class of fighting."  
  
The man shook it off. "It isn't a concern. We aren't limited to lances alone; polearms in general mostly."  
  
"I've first learned to fight with staves," Ramza concurred.  
  
`"Pardon me," the smith cut in. "We're done with most of your armor Ramza, except for your helmet and gauntlets - we'll be taking those fittings tomorrow. It'll be night soon." He paused. "The armor? Since its yours, feel free to take it with you; I might observe you exercising in them tomorrow -if I can fit it into the clock."  
  
The lancer nodded. "We're not going to be the first ones in," he reported. "The actual military phase of the operation won't be for a few days. Our forces will be cutting off all escape for them before we extend any diplomatic offers. The lockdown of the province will take two to three days: the time it takes to spread the word to all the authorities."  
  
"The cardinal is allowing Rudvich to surrender," Ramza concluded. "But, Mustadio wants to rescue his father as soon as possible." The hostage implication didn't need to be vocalized.  
  
The dragoon lead Ramza off to the side, following the smith as Venn excused himself. "There are other appointments I have to keep," he told them.  
  
"It wouldn't be wise for Rudvich to use hostages - not when the cardinal is making a direct challenge."  
  
"It all depends on what is at stake," Ramza remarked.  
  
Grunting, the dragoon agreed. "Whatever it was, it did cause the cardinal to mobilize some resources. . ." There was conspiracy in his voice. "I'm sorry Mr. Ruglia, I am known as 'Sanders.'" Ramza knew it was the man's surname that was etched onto the left half of the dragoon's breastplate.  
  
***  
  
Agrias had taken a nap through the afternoon, several in fact. With her, the goal was to sleep until she began to dream, and then she woke herself up again to fade away once more. She enjoyed the state of lucid unconsciousness, one of the few pleasures she craved and frequently indulged -when circumstances permitted. As such, it was the first time in over a week that she could do this again.  
  
It irritated Alicia and Lavian frequently as Agrias would comment on the games of chess they tried to play, as Agrias seemed to doze in Alicia's bed. Agrias could see where the two knights played with a chessboard between where they sat on Lavian's bed. Agrias had only snorted when she noticed the awkward way Alicia sat, with her left foot planted on the bed with her knee bent, while Lavian curled both of her legs beneath her; Alicia wore a brown blouse with a gray skirt -which is what Agrias found appalling in her posture.  
  
"Mate in three. . ." Agrias murmured, opening her left eye, the rested brown iris widening as it adjusted to the light again.  
  
Alicia only growled as Lavian saw her endgame plan.  
  
"Could you find something else to do?" she grated out.  
  
"I don't want to think about what might happen. . ." Agrias muttered back, feeling ashamed that she was admitting this.  
  
"You're not being fair," Lavian remarked gently, reaching forwards with her hand to capture Alicia's white queen with her black bishop. "Its hard on all of us. . . but its out of our hands."  
  
Sitting up in bed, Agrias felt a little noxious. She glanced down again on the board. Gone were almost all of the pawns. Where either side had begun with complimentary pawn offensives, there was less than a handful between them now. They were in the sidelines, forgotten, forsaken and forlorn, with all the attention focused on the capital pieces.  
  
For either player, it was sudden death. Their knights had taken them this far, and only a single white knight stood alone, threatening Lavian's black queen. All that remained was a single rook to either side, their kings castled. Yet, the bishops had taken no losses, neither side using them offensively until the now.  
  
The white queen had been disposed of, and now the black queen was threatened by the white knight. The king was still free, but eventually, the knight would force a pin upon the royal pair; endgame had begun.  
  
Cupping her hand to her face to smell if her breath had gone sour, Agrias turned away, finding herself disturbed by what she saw on the board.  
  
The dreams she would have were not prophetic, but recollections.  
  
***  
  
Walking down the corridor, Ramza conversed with Sanders about what would be happening in the next few days.  
  
"I suggest you not exert yourself physically in the next two days," the older warrior said. "From what's been going around, you've been in constant action, and your body's bound to have begun to adjust to that. However, only fatigue and atrophy will result if you keep that pace."  
  
"Small runs," Ramza told him. "I'm going to need them in order to get used to this armor." He twisted his torso clockwise and back to make another redundant check. "Mustadio will not appreciate that it is going to be at least four to five days before he sees his father again."  
  
Sanders shrugged. "I know it shouldn't matter even it is over a single man, but I'm only supporting this action because Rudvich is not only breaking the law, and because to the cardinal, he's enough of a threat to send troops after."  
  
Ramza nodded, and though he knew he shouldn't say anything, he still put forth his own opinion. "There are some lines that be crossed, even if it is only for a single person's sake."  
  
The dragoon reluctantly nodded. "You weren't talking just about a liege lord, were you?" he asked rhetorically. He slowed his pace and told Ramza. "Enjoy yourself for the next two days -reasonably. About the boy's father. . . you know that he's not the reason this operation is being undertaken." Turning around, the dragoon began to walk away, and Ramza did not look back.  
  
"Mine neither. . . though it should be," Ramza murmured to himself, walking down a passage that seemed somewhat familiar to him.  
  
***  
  
After Lavian received Ramza at the door, Ovelia looked over from where she reclined on a cushion on the floor. The princess waved off the bow that he gave to her, exaggerated and lengthy only because he did not know just how much the armor would let him do. "I wish I could reward you as the cardinal has," she told him.  
  
To his credit, Ramza did not start, or begin flustering to flatter Ovelia. "In our condition," he addressed them all instead of simply her, "we are not able to do much." He shrugged. "I believe I am beginning to live by my conscience now. . . I only want what need to survive."  
  
Behind Ramza, Lavian chuckled silently, trading looks with Alicia, who only shrugged. 'If he's for real. . .' Lavian read in Alicia's lips. "It's a waste that you're not a soldier anymore," the chemist-knight said out loud. "Well, the Hokuten's loss, our gain," she said trivially.  
  
"Would you please wake up Agrias?" Ovelia asked of Alicia. She turned to Ramza. "It would have been inconsiderate to leave you behind while we have our supper," she told him, giving him a conspiratorial look Ramza remembered only from Alma when she was committing conspiracy.  
  
"Of course, highness," Alicia automatically replied, the bitter honey of her voice replaced by a clipped cadence. Quickly, she ventured into Agrias' room, and Agrias' grunt was heard afterwards.  
  
"A banquet - why wasn't I told?!" Ramza heard the Holy Knight exclaim from the darkness of the other room.  
  
Knowing better than to ask, Ramza took a breath. Lavian caused him to feel self-conscious when she announced loudly enough for Agrias to hear, "Even Ramza's dressed already - the festivities begins in half an hour."  
  
It was only Ramza that didn't share a laugh at the set-up, feeling that since he wasn't one of the conspirators, he was also liable to be a victim. "A celebration for your arrival?" he asked Ovelia.  
  
The princess nodded soberly, appearing somber. "And for what we may accomplish. . ."  
  
***  
  
A mediator in his salmon and gray robes was the one sent to conduct Ovelia to the main hall of Lionel Castle's keep. Escorting him was the knight Tabatha and the dragoon Sanders. Tabatha's armor wasn't complete, the most constrictive and non-distinctive pieces having been removed, and the literal battle dress - which reached past her feet without a train- she wore adorned by saffron filigree against a dark blue background, reminiscent of the starry sky. She had no weapons, not even a ceremonial sword, and she wore no gauntlets or forearm armor.  
  
As a contrast, Sanders had no formal decoration. His armor was an unburnished shade of gray, the azure hue only coming from the mithril it was composed of, whereas Tabatha's visible pieces of armor were proudly polished mirrors of argent luster. However, he held a partisan, a halberd whose blade was etched, and the cypress shaft finished. It confirmed his status as a guard, the polearm a symbol of rank and authority.  
  
Tabatha suppressed a grimace as Lavian winced when she greeted them at the door.  
  
In Ovelia's protective group of four, only Ramza and Agrias wore armor; Alicia and Lavian opted for the dresses of blue and white that were their casual uniforms in their knight order. The knights' apparel wasn't martial, yet it wasn't overly feminine either. No frills, not even trim, simply a modest slip that was almost a robe.  
  
Ramza took note of Agrias' sword from where she wore it from the frog (1*) that hung from the white belt around her waist - which was only for the sword since she wore armor. She looked just as she had this morning, though the characteristic frown on her face seemed weary now -which Ramza wondered about since Alicia had told him that Agrias had spent the rest of the day napping.  
  
Upon commenting that he thought she did not have that habit during the journey., Lavian replied that it was only due to exhaustion that Agrias slept through a solid period.  
  
Ramza made no attempt to disguise his staring. Instead of walking besides Ovelia, Agrias walked behind her, gesturing for Ramza to stay by her side. The Holy Knight's eyes were tired, he saw.  
  
***  
  
"Before you ask," she addressed him silently as they followed the mediator in the castle, "I've been having nightmares."  
  
Ramza could guess as to what she dreamt about. "What were they about?" he probed.  
  
"I can't tell. . ." Agrias muttered. "All I remember is that its something I don't want to recollect."  
  
"You didn't seem to have these just a few days ago," Ramza whispered.  
  
Shrugging, Agrias continued to stare past Ovelia. "That was because I had nothing else to dream about except saving her. . ."  
  
***  
  
The main hall was typical, Agrias noted, finding nothing about it unique. It had the usual separation of the classes, with the knights and local nobility in attendance at the row of tables that bordered either side of the rectangular chamber. The large presence of merchants struck Agrias almost as an affront. Aren't we supposed to be bringing them to justice? Agrias thought. At the back, opposite from the entrance, was a raised platform -a stage, Agrias sneered, where she knew they would be placed as the guests of honor.  
  
Ramza took the initiative and crooked his left arm, and after hesitating for a moment, Agrias placed her right hand on his forearm, feeling self-conscious as they were the first to enter the chamber after the mediator.  
  
"A feast before a war? This is something you don't celebrate," she said to him.  
  
"It doesn't have to be about that," Ramza calmly replied, wondering why Agrias was so provocative now. "I'll draw from it what I want," Ramza replied. "Even if it isn't for the reasons you think are right, you can still enjoy yourself. . ."  
  
"There's wisdom in being happy," Agrias acquiesced. Staring at him directly, she told him bluntly, "I am angry with you. . . for many reasons, but. . . I know that I am hurt because I care."  
  
***  
  
Predictably, Ovelia and Draclau shared the head of the main table, with Ovelia on the right, and Draclau on the left. Ramza paid no attention to the Lionel residents around him. He engrossed himself in trying to make a connection with Agrias. He noticed that she was trying to ignore him.  
  
Agrias and Ramza were paired together at Ovelia's right. "Why are you angry?" He began gently, noticing how she meticulously arranged the portions of her meal into formations. "That I am leaving?"  
  
"It was something I never took into account. . ." Agrias replied wearily, smirking at the awkward and uncomfortable feeling between the two of them. "But, that's something I could live with" she pointed out sharply, taking a breath. "I knew that somehow. . . we'd at least try to find each other again," Agrias sighed. "What bothers me is that you are resigned to die."  
  
"So you understand that I have to go help Mustadio."  
  
Again, Agrias shrugged. "Not really. But, you've convinced yourself that making sure that 'legendary,'" she mocked, "stone doesn't fall into evil hands. I know that if the cardinal is interested enough to help a single case like that engineer out, then it is something serious."  
  
Ramza lifted an eyebrow, cautioning Agrias as to her surroundings. "You believe that I seek my death?"  
  
"Seek it, expect it. . . they're the same. Haven't I told you that I've met people like you before, and how they all died?" At Ramza's silence, she continued. "They kept going when they shouldn't have. . . when they should have just held back or left it alone." She placed her bare hands onto the table. "I know I'm being hypocritical since I'm soldier, as it was their job to fight too, but Ramza. . ." she paused, her voice beginning to taint with emotional strain. "The way they thought. . . it wasn't that they understood the risks, but they went into it expecting something to happen."  
  
"I can't promise you that I'll stay safe. . ." he told her, knowing that he could say little more.  
  
"Exactly!" Agrias muttered, turning to face him. "Can you at least lie about that to me? No. You acknowledge that it can happen, and beyond that, I know you expect that you will run into something awful." Agrias winced at how bitter the wine turned in her mouth as she sipped to calm herself. "Why are you a coward in all the wrong areas, and a martyr where you shouldn't be?"  
  
"Ramza. . . you need faith in yourself more than anything else. . . and there, you have none." She closed her eyes as she brought her right hand to massage her forehead. "I know I'm sounding irrational, but this is what I believe. If you insist on confronting everything, you're too weak to survive the way you are now."  
  
***  
  
No one at the banquet brought up the subject of Larg and Goltana's acts of treason, but everyone understood nonetheless. Embarassed, Mustadio was one of the focuses of the night, as for it was his father that this effort was being undertaken. Even Mustadio could tell that it was truly about the stone, but he also knew that the cardinal's and his motives overlapped in the details.  
  
Ovelia said little, and Draclau made no attempt coax her, and to the surprise of the outsiders, did not speak himself. The cardinal watched over the floor and surrounding tables.  
  
The tension in the room was palpable, as the real issues were not being addressed, but implied.  
  
Ramza sat there, acting the noble automaton as he fell back on the etiquette taught him in his childhood, a past life, he reflected. He felt unease towards Agrias now, reciprocating the confusion and turmoil that she radiated.  
  
He realized something as he observed her: she was isolating herself away from him.  
  
To Ramza, there was little confusion as to how he perceived -and desired- the Holy Knight, but he knew not how to pursue. How to court Agrias? She's female, his reason told him, not a stone, yet Ramza was intimidated still. Agrias was a strong figure, and he knew that she wanted no one, yet, she had let him in.  
  
The little touches were forward for him, but they were the most obvious approaches that he could make. Now. . . his touches seemed cold, frigid, and unwelcome.  
  
He knew that he would not renege his decision to make sure that both the stone and Mustadio's father were retrieved. The former was important to Ivalice, somehow, even if it wasn't related to serving Ovelia with Agrias. His conscience wanted him to go, and Ramza resolved to follow his conscience, so that he would never become a victimizer -one who preyed on the innocent- ever again, through his action or inaction.  
  
Yet, he also knew that he and Agrias might be separated for a long period of time. She wasn't shutting away for that, but because of what she believed. . .  
  
A toast had been proposed, and obligingly, Ramza raised his goblet to participate. He tasted none of the dessert wine's sucre, only the bitter edge that fermentation had brought about.  
  
I don't want to be here. . . he knew, looking at how Agrias sat, her elbow nudging his, yet he felt that they may as well have been on opposite shores.  
  
"Agrias?" he asked. Agrias finished the rest of her chalice before she returned to glaring at him. "Why is it that you're acting like I've made a decision between my duty and you?"  
  
That was the closest he'd ever come to broaching both subjects. . . and now that the gauntlet was on the table, it was up to Agrias to rise to the challenge.  
  
"I will tell you when I have the time." The reply was clipped and precise, which Ramza took as an omen. "Not now, not here, and never while you have the advantage."  
  
***  
  
Ramza had wanted to retreat at that point, to get away from what he thought was animosity from Agrias. She was angry at him, but Ramza did not want to confuse that with hatred. Anger at something what one did, and hating that person are not the same to Ramza, yet, he had trouble interpreting the signals Agrias was giving out, if any.  
  
Yet, he knew, to pull back, to ignore, to forsake the issue, was the wrong thing to do. Action had to be taken. Not something to show himself off, but to make her believe that he cared, and Ramza began to wonder how he was ever going to reach someone who appeared to be determined to push him away - unless it was on her terms - he thought, feeling offended.  
  
That was one sign Ramza had that he did not view Agrias from the foot of a pedestal; he still had the ability to be upset with her. "Unless she means it. . . it doesn't matter," Ramza murmured as he stared forwards at a band of two guitarists, a drummer, and violinist. He remembered the conversations he had then, when he was haunted by ghosts of the past, and when Agrias was harried by what may come to be.  
  
His words had come full circle and, Ramza admitted, bit him in the ass. He was upset because she was upset. It wasn't irrational. Ramza knew he was doing something that was causing pain to someone he cared for, and that they in turn, were lashing out at him. Both facts served to burden him with despair. The matter of retrieving the stone -no matter how important it may be as much as the cardinal implied- seemed moot compared to how Agrias and him were being driven apart. To attribute it on duty was an escape; to blame it on emotion is spiteful; to leave it to fate is ignorant.  
  
Knowing that he would only torture himself just deliberating all the causes, effects, and aftermaths, Ramza forced himself to a decision. "If you will excuse me highness," he spoke clearly, obtaining Ovelia's attention, who nodded for him to do as he pleased, and he rose.  
  
He placed his the fingertips of his right hand upon her shoulder, and upon feeling her recoil at first, and then stiffen, Ramza's doubts disappeared. He had to act. . . he had to make the attempt, and he realized that he had been thinking about Agrias almost as a battle; something -someone- to be won or lost. Now, all he wanted was to show her -regardless of what she's accepted, believes now, or will ever presume- that not only does he care, but he desired to share his life with her.  
  
He left the tables and paced towards the band, whose members saw him coming and stopped their playing. Ramza knew he was creating a dramatic effect, but he chose to ignore it, disregarding how everyone's attention came to him. There was only one other soul in that chamber of a thousand that was significant to him, and if he had to be this blatant to pierce the veil. . .  
  
His thought before one of the guitarists introduced himself was that nothing else matters.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Footnotes:  
  
(1) A frog is a type of belt that a sword's scabbard hangs from. Think of a belt with two straps hanging down attached to a scabbard. Its more practical than tucking a sword into your belt, since this rig gives you more room to maneuver since the sword isn't digging into your side. However, it may bounce around a bit since its hanging.  
  
Ramza finally begins to confront Agrias.  
  
Both a good, and bad thing. The stupidest time, really. They are about to split up -with bad sentiment on either side, and he wants to solidify something.  
  
I don't know much about girls, but I assume that that half the species would be, well, angry.  
  
I'm drifting apart from the setting descriptions again. . . though that might change in the next scene or two.  
  
Hopefully, Ramza's thoughts don't seem too advanced. He's seemed to have gone past the stage of 'I think I like her,' but then again, he's no longer a child, and those thoughts have passed their point of development. In other words - he's already beyond that stage, as evidenced by his actions.  
  
Ramza's issues? I'm still trying to accept most of mine.  
  
Yes, this piece is meant to be a cliffhanger of sorts. Kudos to the people who can guess what happens next.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
First off:  
  
Damn, Ilvinaeda. that was a lot of text.  
  
Well, let's address your review.  
  
When it came to writing Alicia and Lavian. that was totally half- assed. The game really gave no clue as to their personas, so I took liberty and created my versions.  
  
Well, when I've mentioned I've inserted a lot of my problems into this story. yeah, I wasn't shitting you. That might explain why the past few chapters seemed irrational and bi-polar.  
  
Agrias is. understandably so. I actually don't want to go into further detail about that. its weird enough venting in this department. She's pissed, and she has reason to really stick it to Ramza. Sucks to be him.  
  
I've enjoyed the times when Agrias and Ramza just opened their hearts to each other. but. yeah. the current state of affairs. not gonna happen unless Ramza takes it into the open (which he is beginning to. the worst possible time though).  
  
'Wheel of Time': Medieval fantasies aren't my thing. I've read up to the point where they reach Whitebridge and are split up, but I grew to detest it. None of the characters were ones I could sympathize with. except for Nynaeve. oh yeah...  
  
As to 'Trial by Tenderness': It rocked to the point where Cevn began to introduce us to his space-time theory. when it got to that, I began to confuse the story for a lecture. Only good SI out there. and sadly, he pissed it away. Yet, up to chapter 100 or so, it was still bearable. The tangential stories were actually GOOD, since they dealt little with the sci- fi overkill that ruined TBT for me. Cevn fell into the trap of continuing the story while revising whatever direction he wanted to take it.  
  
Geez, I'd swear you were a friend of mine. the references are almost creepy.  
  
M'eh. I'd like to discard some details, but as it is now, so many things are just simply too convenient. Again, 'show,' not 'tell.' Who knows, both may be a good compromise.  
  
Obviously, Lionel Castle is a death trap, though currently it's a source of writer's block (I'm simply not as motivated as I was at the end of summer). and hmm, I have to point this out - Once Ramza is on the road. the story may accelerate (positive, not negative).  
  
To Novalon: Random characters? The starting party of the game? They are alluded to, but, no, they will not play any roles in the story. Why should they? I'm not going to build relationships to them since they aren't essential to the plotline. Sorry to sound snappy, but the starting party was never meant to come back in, since they are going to reek of 'Munchkin.'  
  
Well, Minka-chan. that compilation-clean-up plan went to hell. sorry. I appreciate what you're telling me, and I'm hoping that you begin to improve. I'm a bit of a bastard when it comes to criticizing others, so it may not be a good idea for me to pre-read for you ^_^;  
  
Um, Highwaywoman. I'm sorry. ahead of time, I really am.  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	15. 14 Nothing Else Matters

***Author's Notes***  
  
If you are able, it would be recommended for you to fire up a copy of Metallica's 'Nothing Else Matters' from their Black Album.  
  
Not much else to say except that this is the first SongScene I've done in a while, and yeah... Metallica... Final Fantasy Tactics... yeah... it's a hard connection to create.  
  
Again, personal problems abound... and I've more or less lost the will to write, which is why this chapter is so damn short. The motivation died halfway through in writing this.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-14 "Nothing Else Matters" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 14)  
  
***  
  
"What can we do for you, Mr. Ruglia?" the lead guitarist, holding an acoustic guitar, asked, having stopped his playing and beginning to retune his strings.  
  
"A song," Ramza replied, his tone calm.  
  
"Oh, a request," another band member –the violinist- remarked.  
  
Ramza shook his head. He placed his hands across his forearms as he began to tighten the sleeves he wore from their bindings at the undersides of his forearms. "In a way, but it won't mean a thing to the one that matters unless it comes from me..."  
  
The lead guitarist spoke again. "So, you want to play, with us backing you up?"  
  
The boy who sat by a massive drum on the ground spoke up, toying with the padded drumsticks. "So long as its easy to follow, I have no problems with it. At least we know someone will be happy." His partner, another boy, this one with a smaller drum tied on with suspenders around his waist, just shrugged. Ramza hadn't noticed the quiet one before.  
  
The other guitarist simply shrugged, removing his feathered cap and inverting it, smirking.  
  
"I'd ask how good you are, or even if you know how to in the first place, but since its going to happen now..." the lead pointed out, "I assume you'll be taking my position... so, sir knight, here is thy sword!" the lead joked.  
  
It wasn't that Ramza found the humor offensive, it was that he did not care. Taking the man's half-squash acoustic guitar, Ramza brushed the bare fingers of his right hand along the handful of strings while his left hand intuitively probed where each of the strings were adjusted, feeling the oil from the guitarist's hands on the brass screws.  
  
Enough of the guests had noticed the cessation of the music, as well as Ramza's stride into the center of the room where the band had set themselves up. Before he looked towards her, Ramza knew that Agrias had been watching him. His back burned from the glare she directed against him, and Ramza wondered if he preferred her heat –even in anger- over her cool, detached manner.  
  
He noticed that his breathing had grown more deep and rapid, that his chest was beginning to tense, and his wit leaving him. In that state of anxiety, Ramza immersed himself, trying to explore the emotions of terror, loneliness, and loss that was his turmoil. Diving through the surface of the pool, Ramza fought the suffocation that he felt, and in the depths of his emotional body, he found the core from which everything came; the emotion that was so fulfilling that the fear of its loss became a nightmare.  
  
His heart bare, his shields withdrawn, Ramza settled back into a more controlled rhythm of breath, trying to find his balance, mental and physical.  
  
A piece of a poem that Ramza remembered from when he saw his life in only in black or white. The poem had no meaning for him then, only bitter sadness that he grasped, savoring the emotion, the feeling.  
  
Ramza knew enough to keep a rhythm, and he began. One, one-two-three- four-five. He had established his sequence, letting the band know the pace he would dictate. A second sequence, and on the third, the other guitarist joined him, punctuating the Ramza's dull strums with his own higher pitch, working within Ramza's meter.  
  
Melancholy was the mood being shared by his guitar, contrasting sharply with the festivities that was being ignored by Ramza.  
  
The violin joined next, performing in slow sweeps, overshadowing Ramza, who wished it so. The same number of steps, with only the speed at which they were run shifting. When the drummer took up the beat, Ramza's music disappeared, drowned out by the rest of the instruments, yet it continued to play its beat faithfully.  
  
He watched Agrias' face contort, content with his instrumental as she rose, her hands unseen, yet he knew that within her gloves, her knuckles were clenched white.  
  
'Never while I have the advantage...' Ramza thought, having long since made the decision to challenge Agrias...  
  
***  
  
Agrias knew that Ramza decided to reveal himself to her now... or something to that effect. She wondered why, even so, why she felt so jaded at that, asking herself why should she not feel happy?  
  
Its what you wanted, isn't it? Agrias pondered as Ramza talked to the musicians on the floor.  
  
She noticed the attention on him by the others as well, and she was angered by that. It was only her attention that Ramza required, what he was doing caught the eye of most others in the room having nothing better to do than finding entertainment out of someone else's torment.  
  
She knew she was hurting Ramza, but she could not erase the thought of how he was hurting her as well.  
  
He was resigned to his fate. He hadn't said as much, but whatever happened to him, Agrias knew Ramza believed as something he deserved. The willingness to put himself into harm's way... With Ramza, Agrias sees not Death catching up with her interest, but her source of so much contention and anguish running down the reaper himself.  
  
Ramza did not want to run his own life; his inability to discard his heritage and become independent. He would always place himself in someone else's service. Even for the dead. Agrias understood that which Ramza had never been able to accept: he had never forgiven himself for whatever he had allowed to happen in his past, and in his eventual demise he saw his atonement.  
  
Could I love someone who is already dead?  
  
Could someone who feels no love for themselves love others?  
  
You're leaving your rejection to me, Agrias concluded, anger rising from her revelation. 'Did you ever think you could even succeed?' she mouthed, expecting him to read her lips, so that he would answer to her accusation. 'Was I simply a fantasy to you... a mere thing to pine after...'  
  
She did not know how long he would be separated from her, most likely longer than the handful of days, but infinity of moments, that she had shared with him, and she knew both of them wanted to continue. Yet, with his mindset, no matter how skilled he may be, it was a matter of eventuality that the dice would tumble against him.  
  
When he began to play, it wasn't the music that impacted her, but the sadness that she could sense radiating from him.  
  
She saw the determination in his eyes, and the resignation in them... and she was enraged. Unless you expect yourself to succeed in loving me, Ramza, how could you expect me to love you?  
  
***  
  
Having Agrias' attention, Ramza began to sing. "So close, no matter how far."  
  
How cliché... Agrias thought. She could tell that his voice was strained as he sought to keep his voice low and still project to her.  
  
"Couldn't be much more from the heart..." Ramza confessed, catching her eyes. "Forever trusting who we are," he continued cryptically, "and nothing else matters."  
  
Yet... why do you have to leave? Agrias mentally retorted, sitting herself down as she noticed the stares beginning to accumulate as eyes began to follow Ramza's gaze to her.  
  
"Never opened myself this way," Ramza continued, giving Agrias a guilty smile, and a little of his melancholy fell away. "Life is ours," he admitted, "we live it our way." was his concession to their differences. Agrias noticed how he stretched out the last syllable in his lines.  
  
As his voice began to sound anguished, Agrias wanted to believe him when he sang to her, "All these words I don't just say," tugging at something within her as he repeated himself, reverting to his blank tone, "and nothing else matters." Then, why can't you change? Agrias asked again.  
  
Ramza paused, and when he began again, frustration was in his voice, almost accusing her, which Agrias had to check herself to keep from reacting negatively. "Trust I seek, and I find in you." Agrias wanted to hate him, ignore him, anything that would keep him from reaching her. "Everyday for us, something new," he continued, almost pleading as the anguish and frustration manifested was transforming in humility. "Open mind for a different view..." he sang with a tired glow, "and nothing else matters..." he repeated again.  
  
This time, Ramza lashed out at the rest of his audience, "Never cared for what they do," he told her, anger marring his soft voice. "Never cared for what they know..." he reminded her, trying to get her to think back on the few nights they had shared, "but I know," he finished, breaking rhythm, sounding empty, and alone.  
  
Ramza stopped his strumming as he said softly, breaking from the others as he began speaking plainly to her, "So close," he reminded her, "no matter how far," again he brought up their recent past. "Couldn't be much more from the heart," Ramza repeated, his voice uncertain, wondering if Agrias believed him.  
  
"Forever trusting who we are," Agrias mirrored his speech, acknowledging her pledge to him when her will was at an ebb during Ovelia's pursuit, and he was there to hold her up, to assist her, and simply be there. "And nothing else matters..." she agreed, their two voices failing to synchronize, but none could tell who was parroting who.  
  
"Never cared for what they do," Ramza sang again, his voice weaker than before as he tried to smile at her, and she sighed, suppressing the disappoint she felt. Yes, Ramza... but it wasn't all about them, she thought, wishing that he too would understand. "Never cared for what they know..." something that Agrias thought was hinting at something else, something that she could not understand right now. "But I know." Now, his mysterious smile appeared for a moment, before it disappeared.  
  
As the instrumental began, Ramza participated again, beginning his light, practically undistinguishable playing. As he slowly weaved laterally, Agrias saw the invitation in his expression, and she wanted to damn him for how tempting a figure he was at that moment.  
  
Angry with him or not, Ramza shone. As she caught his eye once more, Ramza playfully exaggerated and stylized his strokes, which the violinist mimicked in his playing. He was armored as a dragoon... and Agrias found herself thinking 'delicious.'  
  
***  
  
Taking a brief glance towards Ovelia, who mouthed to her fiercely, 'You won't forgive yourself if you don't do anything! Just go!' Agrias rose awkwardly again, trying to ignore the stares –some of them venomous, some amused- all of them critical and invasive. The eyes of the women were particularly vicious, and Agrias was no small part annoyed at that. So, she followed her reason and acted as she knew was best. She ignored them while still acknowledging their disdain. "And no one else matters..." Agrias said nervously, amazed that she could bring herself to say something like that. Do I mean it? She asked herself. For now I do... and nothing else matters. She chuckled at that as she took Ramza's almost devious –though heartfelt and terrified on his part- enticement.  
  
Her pace was swift, frantic, as she wondered why she was rushing towards him with this energy, fervor, and desperation.  
  
He only averted his gaze to return the instrument he had borrowed, the lead guitarist relieving him.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked him bluntly, wondering why she felt such a rush.  
  
Likewise, Ramza was affected, standing before Agrias, awaiting her verdict. Accepting defeat before was to accept failure, to accept whatever came –including success- was another. "I cherish you. Whatever duty I am given, even if it seems that my death is certain... I want to return to you." Ramza's breathing was beginning to become erratic as his anxiety peaked. "Even if you believe that death will run me down... I want to live. Not for you, but for myself." She was surprised that Ramza did not seem hesitant at all, almost eager as he nearly stuttered his revelation.  
  
Agrias had been prepared to hear something else – and some part of her wanted to swat him down had he uttered those three words, yet, this change in phrase confused her. "You're just telling me what I want..." she instinctively replied. Either love him, or discard him... don't let him linger, her mind screamed, compelling Agrias to make a decision.  
  
Instead of coming back at her with his own reply, Ramza simply nodded in that same accepting manner that she both hated and admired, because it allowed people to accept blame where they may be innocent. Agrias didn't care if she got her way in an argument; she cared if she was correct. Being a penitent martyr was cowardice to her, denying both sides justice. "I want to live, with or without you." The alarm that she saw rise in Ramza's crimsons eyes relieved Agrias somewhat; it was better than the terror that had been there before.  
  
"There's so many things wrong with both of us," she pointed out, and as Ramza approached her, she stepped back. In turn, she saw Ramza flinch, and again, her eyes saw his dull and fade. She wondered if crimson eyes could cry ruby tears. Agrias felt that she was bleeding Ramza's heart –the pain she could feel him emanating indicated that she was all but torturing him.  
  
"I don't want to run anymore," Ramza said, pre-empting any excuse she could make. "There is always going to be a later time, but, the present is here."  
  
"What are you trying to tell me?" Agrias put bluntly. As long I don't keep him wriggling on the hook... anything that I say is fine.  
  
As Ramza blinked, she saw the tension in his body disappear. She had been worried, as she saw what she believed could've been anger in him as she spoke. "Something that if you do not know by now, then its something that you deny." His eyes had a ruby sheen now, a glow of life, intensity, and passion beginning to show. "When you don't listen to me, or when you push me away, it doesn't hurt so much," Ramza told her. "What causes me agony is that you are closing me off from your heart."  
  
And since when has any part of my heart been yours? Agrias would've said, but the bitter rejoinder died before she could speak. Justice, not malice, Agrias told herself. "You say that you'll come back to me?"  
  
"Yes, even if its something that you should never have to hear. Not because its not your place, but because, because I believe that you know what I feel." He took a soft breath, waiting as Agrias approached him, shattering the physical barrier that she had created. "I want to share my life with you."  
  
"And you can't do that from the grave, yours or mine," Agrias acquiesced. "Both of us can die, but, I can't help what I feel; I believe you seek your death." She lifted her eyebrow when Ramza slipped his right hand behind her back, and took her right hand in his left. "What are you doing?"  
  
Ramza took a moment to cock his head at the band. "Actions speak louder than words."  
  
"And it took you this long to act... after so much speech," Agrias gently accused, her voice lacking any malice or anger as she allowed. She had to give Ramza credit as he held her tighter instead of trying to defend himself. Wondering why she was having a change of heart, Agrias simply chose to go with the moment. "And nothing else matters," she told him, awkwardly leaning her head into the crook of his neck, the peace she thought tainted by the discord of their emotions.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
This chapter... I'd allude it to being a can of Campbell Soup. Concentrated, powerful, but unprocessed. It needs to be given volume and final preparation.  
  
I've lost my objectivity. The mood of this scene changed halfways... and hell, the tune 'Kiss Me' almost began to play in the background.  
  
The characters are confused. More or less, an ultimatum had been issued, made, and/or broken, all without Ramza's knowledge of anything ever happened until it was too late.  
  
Maybe I should go into Ramza's thoughts... but the problem with that would be, there'd be a lot of bitterness, disappointment, and sorrow within them. Unless you're really sick or deprived... angst like that is too much. I like to write angst... but the stuff that's going through Ramza's mind... no. That's really taking it too far. Especially since its more or less a reflection of what I'm trying to survive.  
  
This fic is Drama... not a DarkFic. I don't want to leach off characters' pain, and reasons like that are whats keeping me from doing much more with this story.  
  
I suppose I could move on with the game's storyline, but the gauntlet's been laid down by Agrias here, and Ramza chose to pick it up. It HAS to be resolved on some level.  
  
So, for now, expect nothing from this story for a few weeks until I regroup. Its doing no good when I'm not thinking about this story except for the moments where I force myself to type.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
To all: Sorry.  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	16. 15 Coming to Terms

***Author's Notes***  
  
I have returned. Emotional turmoil still abound, and its not something I am going to resolve for some time, but for the moment, I've come to accept some of what I am running from.  
  
I'm sorry, but for this chapter, and possibly for its immediate successors, I'm not going to be overkill on explaining the thoughts of the characters. As it is, I'm trying to keep their actions and thoughts within context of the story as opposed to carrying completely to my life.  
  
For now... I'm just plugging away at the keys.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Chapter 02-15 "Coming To Terms" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 15)  
  
***  
  
'And it comes to this,' Agrias thought, as Ramza pulled back a little, gently shifting his right hand, which grasped her left, to point subtly in the direction of the head table. Before she could meet or rise to a challenge, Ramza shifted his ruby-irised eyes from her muddy hazel rings to stare into the night sky. Some time in the night, the windows and doors to the outside had been opened to provide a cool environment. "You know I can only say yes..."  
  
Hand in hand, Ramza lead Agrias out on one of the balconies of the keep. Agrias only felt suspicion and resentment as the former inhabitants of the overlook vacated the location to the two of them. "Did you mean to demonize me in that environment?" she asked when they were alone. "No... you wouldn't, and that should never have even come up. Yet, hnn..." Agrias broke off, unsure of what to say.  
  
"I wanted to get your attention; I wanted to trap you into making a stand," Ramza admitted, restraining his voice, his effort of sounding calm an example in hypocrisy. "We do not have much time to ourselves."  
  
"I feel bitter," Agrias told him.  
  
"So do I," Ramza agreed. His resultant smile was weak, but sincere, his tired expression showing through once more. "And talking just aggravates the situation."  
  
"Damn this shell," Agrias cursed under her breath, sidling up against Ramza. "I'd find this sweet if it wasn't for the fact that more or less, we're metal-clad."  
  
"I'm not complaining," Ramza quipped, causing Agrias to snort.  
  
Changing the mood? she wondered. "Deviant," she accused softly, the word having neither poison nor fire.  
  
"I-"Ramza stuttered, "you bring me joy."  
  
"And pain..." Agrias said softly, wondering why she was returning to what they were trying to leave behind. Because it hasn't been resolved, she knew.  
  
"I don't care about value, or balance," Ramza said, leading her to the edge of the balcony, where they stared down into the darkness of the hills and valleys that surrounded the castle. "You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever come... satisfaction that I've never found in anyone else..." Ramza trailed off, his breathing beginning to slow, Agrias could tell.  
  
"But I'm hurting you, and you're hurting me..."  
  
"And we always will," Ramza agreed. "But, to live with others..."  
  
To love, you mean, Agrias did not say.  
  
"That friction is something that you can never avoid. If they can touch you heart..."  
  
"Then they have the power flay your soul." Agrias sighed, turning to look at Ramza beside her. "Why have you never called me out on that?" she asked him. "You knew I have this flaw-"  
  
"This feature..." he interrupted, causing Agrias to roll her eyes.  
  
"I fear others, and thus I shut them away." Gruffly, Agrias slipped behind Ramza and slid her arms under his and intertwined her hands at his waist. "Why am I revealing myself to you?" She could feel the deep breath he took as his body shifted. He replied with a pleasant yawn, and Agrias' right brow crooked in bemusement. "Well, aren't you going to say 'You're only vocalizing what your heart already shows?' You know me so well."  
  
"I only know what you've shown me," Ramza remarked, and he sucked in a breath as Agrias squeezed him roughly. "I didn't mean to mock you, and," he continued, a little energy returning to his voice, "no, I don't think you overreacted."  
  
"You're taking the fun out of fighting," Agrias pointed out.  
  
"It isn't fun for me..." Ramza replied. "I have trouble telling when you really are mad..."  
  
"Because I always am," Agrias agreed soberly. "But, you do know... and Ramza?"  
  
"Hmm?" he said, touching her hands where they locked, her palms on his stomach.  
  
"I don't believe I'll ever change."  
  
"I cherish you as you are," Ramza said. "Even if you change, my loyalty and trust will still be yous." He flinched as Agrias brushed the side of his neck with her cheek, even though she'd be chafing part of herself on his armor. When she took a slow sniff of him, Ramza raised her left hand, still gloved, in both of his. Tenderly, he stroked the second to last digit on that hand.  
  
"I don't understand why..." Agrias whispered brokenly.  
  
***  
  
"Ovelia needs you..." Ramza spoke, breaking their reverie. Agrias knew less than an hour had passed, but she had lost herself in that brief span of time, much in the same way that she savored her sleep, her oblivion, and her dreams. To wake, to wonder, to slip away; wistful tides.  
  
She laughed softly, shifting where she stood by his side. "Is that your way of telling me that she comes first, before you?"  
  
"When it comes to a decision, you will choose your duty over me." He squeezed the hand that held hers to let her know he meant no harm. "Your heart doesn't betray you. I don't see you as a collection of different pieces. To me, you are one and made of only one... yourself. Your sense of duty and your conscience would never allow you to forsake her over your emotions.  
  
"That's cruel, Ramza." For the time they spent on that balcony, Agrias smile was sad, and her expression remained the same. She knew what he meant, yet part of her still took offense.  
  
"It is truth..." Ramza said, keeping any apology out of his voice.  
  
"Sometimes, I prefer the silence..." Agrias thought out loud.  
  
"I didn't want to stay as we were," Ramza admitted. "So many things unsaid and unknown."  
  
"Ignorance is bliss," Agrias quipped. When Ramza tugged at her arm gently, to take her back inside, Agrias grumbled and made a face. "I don't want to wake up yet..."  
  
"Dreams may end, yet they never go away... they always return."  
  
"Is that a promise?" Agrias said, relenting to his pressure and reluctantly pulling her hand away from his waist.  
  
"A proposal..." Ramza said in a light tone, the line between jest and sincerity blurred.  
  
***  
  
Agrias let the rest of the festivities pass by her. She could not celebrate, not for the reasons this event was for. She felt joy and she felt sadness, hope and despair, wondering why something so lovely could be so abhorrent. Ramza was beside her, in his own way trying to reach out to her constantly, and Agrias wished that the only emotion she felt from that was happiness, untainted by fear.  
  
Ovelia had been bothersome as well, yet, thankfully, her ward didn't pry so much, though Agrias felt patronized that Ovelia worried about her. Yet, the Holy Knight had to accept the fact that she was not being herself. She felt shame that Alicia and Lavian had taken her place when she had stolen –blatantly walked away- with Ramza, even with Ovelia's blessings, which Agrias knew would've been a command if she had stalled. Shame not because her subordinates fulfilled their duty, but shame that she herself walked away from hers.  
  
Yet, she enjoyed the glow that remained from the encounter that turned into a reverie. Noticing that the celebration had degenerated into a more casual atmosphere, Agrias decided to take Ovelia back to their quarters. "Princess, it is time to leave."  
  
Stifling her shrug, nodding her head instead, Ovelia replied, "Yes... it seems to be that way. A shame... its looking like people are beginning to have more fun." Agrias caught the hint of sadness in that voice, and she didn't voice her thought that Ovelia felt that she would always be within the glass display. Being moved when convenient, yet unlike those that gawked and manipulated her, she could not walk away.  
  
"A tour tomorrow, princess?" Ramza suggested as he rose first, helping Agrias out of her seat before assisting Ovelia.  
  
Ovelia seemed pensive, looking past him as her eyes lost focus. "I, yes, I would enjoy sightseeing..."  
  
"Agreed," Agrias chimed. "Relaxation is something we all need."  
  
Agrias knew she had walked into a trap when Ovelia's voice regained some energy and suggestion. "Then perhaps, Mr. Ruglia and yourself could remain here a little longer." She looked thoughtful, her mouth tilted as she searched for words. "The night is still young..." she said, unsure, wondering if that statement was the phrase she sought.  
  
"Lavian and I will accompany her highness to our quarters," Alicia said formally, a light shining in her lime eyes.  
  
Feigning a yawn, Lavian continued Alicia's thread. "The two of us are beginning to wind down."  
  
The trap had tightened, and as Agrias began to agonize over the decision to stay, Ramza intervened. "I don't feel so tired, but I need to maintain discipline in getting enough rest."  
  
Ovelia smiled, chuckling for a moment. "True. Well, I'll bid good night to the cardinal."  
  
"You might as well be one of us now," Alicia told Ramza, "well, take the lead sir knight, we're as equally blind as you."  
  
Ramza didn't know how to take that statement, so he fell back on what he felt was the safest reaction: confusion. Some time before, the cardinal had excused himself to talk to guests. As smoothly as he could, Ramza twisted past Agrias and around the princess. Opening his left palm in welcome, he bade them to follow him.  
  
Annoyed, Agrias checked herself from going to his side instead of remaining by Ovelia.  
  
***  
  
With the cardinal were the two soldiers that had escorted them before, the knight and the dragoon. Without being told, Draclau understood that Ovelia was leaving for bed. "I wish you a good night's sleep. I hope tonight's festivities wasn't too exerting."  
  
"Not at all," Ovelia replied politely. "The monastic lifestyle I've been raised in did not prepare me for this."  
  
Gravely, Draclau nodded. "Forgive me if I don't offer my condolences, but I believe that the leaders of our people should undergo such an upbringing. Humble surroundings-"  
  
"-Encourage humility," Ovelia finished. "Simon taught me that."  
  
Laughing benevolently, Draclau held his hand up to his chest to raise attention to himself. "Or it may breed contempt for those below you." He chuckled mirthlessly, before changing his tone of voice. "Princess Ovelia, Dame Agrias, pardon my negligence: all the time we've had tonight, and I've failed to introduce these two fine knights."  
  
Taking it upon himself, Ramza stepped forward. He shook hands with the dragoon. "Sir Sanders," Ramza addressed him.  
  
"Ramza... Ruglia is it?" Sanders said.  
  
Indifferently, Ramza turned towards the female knight, who hands were bare, her gloves held in her left hand. As he extended his hand, mischief danced in her eyes as she proffered hers palm-down, her arm straight, angled low.  
  
Catching himself, Ramza began to kneel, holding her hand instead of a handshake, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. "Dame Tabatha..." he said, uncertain as he spoke.  
  
Rising, she made a mild curtsey to him and the others. The smile on her face was almost a challenge, something the males did not recognize, yet the four females that Ramza escorted were wary of.  
  
"These two commanders are now under your authority," Draclau told Ovelia. "Tabatha is the head of a small squad of mixed soldiers –all female- that will form the core of your new escort." Even with the diplomatic tone Draclau spoke in, Agrias' attention was aroused. She had an idea of what these two soldiers would be earlier that night, yet, the announcement startled her.  
  
"Sanders commands a small corps of mobile infantry," Draclau continued. "You could consider them to be the more active of the troops I have delegated to serve you. For example, in your support of Mustadio, Sanders, with Ramza, will represent you in the effort to bring Bart Trading Company to justice." He paused for a moment, to emphasize his point. "These soldiers whom now serve under your name are a symbol of Lionel's support for the crown. I felt that it was needed to have a more substantial... blatant, mark of allegiance and commitment."  
  
"Cardinal," Agrias began politely, regarding Tabatha cautiously, "Why was this not announced tonight at this gathering?"  
  
"That would have been too garish a display, and it would've tarnished the significance of this decision. The ranks have a way of spreading the news, and soon, they will know. The people believe what they find out amongst themselves more than what we tell them."  
  
***  
  
A few minutes later, the entourage had made their way back to Ovelia's suite. Little chatter had been made, the journey quick. Agrias did not look forward the meeting she was sure to have with Tabatha sometime in the next few days. She knew something like this was bound to occur, yet, the magnitude of direction had been a mystery.  
  
"Dame Tabatha..." Ovelia began softly before entering their suite.  
  
"Yes, your highness?" the knight in formal battle-dress replied, deferential in her speech.  
  
"You'll have to forgive the lack of time we've had to acquaint ourselves with each other. I hope that I will not become too much of a burden."  
  
"I am here to ease your troubles, milady, as well as the other women whom will serve you."  
  
"Ah..." Ovelia said, unsure of what to say. Giving Agrias a cautious glance, she continued, "You'll have to talk to Agrias about that. She's the one responsible for such affairs."  
  
The pleasant smile on Tabatha's face twisted into something that resembled malice as she locked eyes with Agrias. "I look forward to sharing your duties," she remarked, before changing her tone of voice when she addressed Ramza. "I'm sorry for not telling you at the armory earlier: it turns out that I'll be serving...." she paused, "beneath you."  
  
"I'm sure that he's..." Agrias gritted out, "looking forward to it." When Ramza sought her hand to give her comfort, she squeezed it in return. Even with the layers of leather, Ramza felt pain.  
  
Wisely, Ovelia excused herself and slipped into what had become their apartment. Sanders likewise left without a word, giving Ramza a stare filled with pity.  
  
Seeming forward, Tabatha reached out and touched Ramza tenderly on the shoulder before she walked away. "Good night, milord," she remarked playfully as she disappeared down the candlelit stone passage.  
  
Ramza began to feel afraid when he heard the door shut as Alicia and Lavian had left him alone with Agrias.  
  
"Don't worry, Ramza..." Agrias said, in a soothing voice that now seemed very suspect. She relinquished the strength she inflicted on his right hand, yet he still felt the trembling within her gloves. "I believe that she was just trying to get a reaction out of me."  
  
"I've experienced rivalry against others before..."  
  
"They were male, Ramza, let's leave it at that," Agrias said succinctly. She almost jumped as he touched her chin with his left hand. "She's come to take over my position, and she feels as if she needs to be dominant. Then, she feels that she has to throw an affiliation in the past with you in my face."  
  
"She may be from my past, but she knows only of me," Ramza clarified, his tone plain. Any apology in his voice would only display guilt for something he did not commit.  
  
"And I don't know if I know you..." Agrias confessed, sighing. "I trust you Ramza, yet, I'm angry that she would use you to get to me." She only softened as Ramza embraced her, and she succumbed to the comfort he gave her. For once, resistance didn't occur to her.  
  
"Alicia told me she purchased some tea from an herbalist in this castle," Ramza told her. "I want you to relax before you go to sleep. First, I'll need to have the others take your armor off." At her dubious grunt, he followed with, "You're tired, angry, and stressed. Please, don't resist, just let it go and float away."  
  
Keeping an arm around her shoulder, Ramza opened the door with his free hand and took Agrias inside. As a final rejoinder to a foe that had long since quit the battlefield, Agrias looked back and uttered one word with a cold, pitiless, and weary character.  
  
"Bitch."  
  
***  
  
Ramza discarded his armor as quickly as he could inside the knights' room. He was thankful that the dragoon armor was made so that its wearer could equip it onto themselves without assistance. The coolness of the night air bit into him as he realized just how heated the heavy leather leg- armor made him feel. Grateful that some of the castle's staff had come in and given them their laundry, Ramza was clothed in attire he had not worn for almost a year. For the better part of that time, he had constantly been in armor and the underclothing that came with it, a heavy cloth tunic with rough pants.  
  
He had stripped his clothing of any formal trim, yet the quality was something he could never hide. The cloth was too well-made, durable, yet comfortable, and the lines of the stitch were too clean, too seamless, too invisible. He realized that he missed the feeling of his pony tail brushing against his neck, the sensations it fed back as it would have brushed the back of his tunic.  
  
Having assembled his gear into a corner of the room Lavian –the one in the group who had taken upon herself responsibility for their equipment- told him to place his armor, Ramza stood at the door, feeling the weight of the sheathed sword he held in his left hand. He never slept more than a handspan away from his weapon, a habit first instilled in him in the academy, and reinforced as necessity not in the time he spent in the field, but during his months of being first a thief trying to survive, and then as a mercenary in Gafgarion's unstable group. He remembered a time when the weapon he used had been much more slender, almost a toy. Something seen as a status of refinement instead of the instrument of death that it was. His mithril dagger was a throwback to that time, the companion piece to the rapier he had left behind.  
  
Discarding the nostalgia that he felt rising, Ramza opened the door and stepped into the common room of what Alicia had coined as the 'Royal Suite.'  
  
***  
  
Meeting the odd look cast upon him by Ovelia, Ramza complied to her silent questions. "Tabatha knew of me from my past." Knowing that Ovelia would not pry further, even though she wanted to learn the details, he continued. "I think that she's simply trying to annoy Agrias."  
  
"That's one way to put it, sir," Ovelia remarked, a sidelong expression on her face. "You placed Agrias in a spot she did not want to be in earlier in that hall..."  
  
"Was there any other time that I could get through to her?" Ramza replied carefully, his voice subservient.  
  
"So, you trapped her?" Ovelia let slip. "All you had to do was ask me and I would have arranged a time for her to..." she drifted off as Ramza shook his head once.  
  
"I would never use you to get to her," Ramza said, some humor in his voice.  
  
This was where Ovelia found herself laughing softly. "I appreciate your feelings for my overzealous knight. Yet, as fond as I am of you, I would never have tried to manipulate Agrias by using my position for anyone. You, are someone that she needs." She flashed him a gentle smile. "Speaking of whom," Ovelia said, giving him a mischievous wink. Her voice took on a melody. "Here she comes..." she began to sing off-key.  
  
Ramza stared past Ovelia to see Agrias being forcibly shoved out of Ovelia's room by Alicia and Lavian. He kept silence as Agrias tried to claw her way back inside the princess' room.  
  
"This is not what I want to look like!" she declared, her efforts growing more frantic when she spotted Ramza behind Ovelia, the princess giving Agrias a conspiratorial wink.  
  
To their credit, the other three females kept silent as Ovelia quickly slipped past Agrias and locked her door behind her. Before Agrias could recover, Alicia and Lavian had darted past Ramza to their room and shut the door behind them. "Good night," Alicia cried out from behind the wooden door.  
  
Splaying her arms by her sides, Agrias told Ramza. "Well, aren't you going to laugh?" Alicia and Lavian had overpowered her after they helped take off her armor.  
  
"Its only a..." Ramza hesitated, "sleeping robe." He kept staring into her eyes, ignoring the temptation to look anywhere else.  
  
"Its not proper..." Agrias said weakly, provoking a laugh from Ramza. She tugged at the sides of the black silk shirt that the castle attendants had given them in addition to the laundry they had washed. Agrias felt very self-conscious as the material hugged her in sensitive areas. The fact that the smooth material only reached just below her knees was unnerving her.  
  
Ramza's smile only widened as Agrias gave him a dubious look as she rotated the index finger on her right hand for him to turn around. Feigning reluctance, her did as she wanted.  
  
"On a more serious note," she added, her voice sounding somber behind him. "I appreciate the support the others are giving... forcing us into," she said.  
  
"What is between us is ours alone," Ramza finished for her. "I cherish you... not Alicia, or Lavian, or Ovelia. I care about you, Agrias."  
  
Agrias made a snort. "Can you be any more clichéd?" she asked him. Though her tone was sarcastic, her actions were not. She walked towards him and embraced him from behind. "You can turn around now..." she said.  
  
"Oh, you changed?" Ramza asked, turning in her embrace. When he faced her, he could not see what she wore, yet he felt that she must have still only been wearing the long shirt.  
  
"In a way..." she replied, some humor in her voice. "I know I must be confusing you. We've only known each other for a matter of days, not even a week, and it seems as if we're almost to that point..." she implied. She blinked as Ramza broke from her arms, and as she started to speak, his right hand held onto her left arm as he went to the small fireplace on the third wall of the common room and poured water from a pitcher into a kettle and hung it over the fire.  
  
"You believe we are moving too quickly?" Ramza asked her as he invited her to sit in one of the chairs next to the dining table.  
  
"I am having trouble admitting that I am attracted to you," Agrias asked. "That, and we have this..." she remarked, gesturing at their surroundings, "over our heads."  
  
Ramza said nothing, and the moment of silence that ensued lasted long into the hour as the two of them watched the black kettle over the fire.  
  
***  
  
"Tea..." Agrias said, her voice lost. "I haven't had tea since..."  
  
The way Ramza's eyes seemed to laugh quieted what else she had to say. It had been a few minutes since the water had boiled, and the tea had been poured. After whisking in the dried fragments of leaves, Ramza had let the heated beverage cool in their cups as he and Agrias sat next to each other at their table.  
  
Neither knew what to say, their words dying as they were spoken. The time came when the liquid ceased to steam, and the two of them took their respective drink. Agrias paused, watching Ramza, his eyes closed, take a silent sip from his cup. He is a noble, she observed from the way his hands were postured, before filing the thought away. Her thoughts wandering, she came to focus on the present.  
  
Agrias was startled as Ramza gently tapped the bottom of her cup to her lips. After she snickered at her own moment of reflection, Agrias drank.  
  
"Something on your mind?" Ramza probed.  
  
"No... a little... well... its not what normally concerns me," Agrias said to him, her voice inquisitive, as if she was questioning herself. "I wish..." she trailed off.  
  
***  
  
"Shouldn't we be talking?" Agrias pointed out, well into her second cup. The tart bite of the tea interested her. It didn't burn the same way alcohol did, yet it still kept her from pouring it down her throat. She savored the way the heat bled from the liquid if she kept it in her mouth for any length of time. Somehow, the tea made her sleepy. No, Agrias concluded, I'm just happy, isn't that strange?  
  
Ramza's reply was a shrug. He had already put the kettle, whisk, and the small box of leaves away. "Being with you here, now... its enough."  
  
Agrias didn't know how tired she was until she felt her eyes open, unaware that they had even closed. She stared up to see Ramza shaking her back, saying, "I think we should get you to bed."  
  
Sleepily, Agrias lifted herself up to sit straight in her chair. She had slumped forwards onto the table when she faded out. She laughed. "Meddlers," she remarked, "Alicia and Ovelia locked us out of their rooms," she said, yawning.  
  
She looked at Ramza suspiciously when he seemed nonchalant about her revelation. What made him even more suspect was that he still looked aware, while she was beginning to tune out into the realm of dreams.  
  
"Its alright... you can take my cot," he told her. "I already had it set up."  
  
"You planned this?" Agrias joked. She wondered when had so many of her inhibitions washed away.  
  
"You were passed out on the table; I set it up then," Ramza clarified, his tone jovial. She turned to look at the corner of the room Ramza slept in, seeing the arrangements he made for her.  
  
Shakily, Agrias said no more, walking over to the cot and falling into it. When she looked at the rest of the room was when she noticed that only a single candle remained lit. When Ramza draped a blanket over her, Agrias curled up, awake enough to make sure her hands kept her shirt pulled below her knees before she was covered.  
  
"Dream well," he told her gently, squeezing her hands in his as he kneeled by her bedside.  
  
"I... you as well," Agrias slurred, before asking him, "Well, where are you going to sleep? If I have your bed..."  
  
"On the floor by the front door," Ramza said casually, beginning to move away.  
  
Growling, Agrias grasped at him, managing to snag his leg. "No, not by the front door."  
  
"I understand," Ramza told her, sheepish, a look she had not see him display for some time. "I'll find another place in the castle to stay tonight."  
  
"No..." she moaned, wishing she had the energy to slap him for his foolishness. Releasing him, she touched the floor just beyond her cot. "Here... sleep here."  
  
When Ramza hesitated, Agrias grew impatient in her desire to resolve the issue of bedtime. She slapped the floor repeatedly. "Now..." she whined, beginning to fade out.  
  
"As you wish," Ramza acquiesced, his tone going from nervous to caring.  
  
Agrias watched him with the remainder of her awareness as he quickly moved his beddings besides the cot he had given to her. She thought she had fallen asleep when he blew out the last candle, and the crimson glow that the room was in descended into darkness.  
  
"Ramza?" she asked, a few minutes later as her eyes popped open; she did not want to fade away yet.  
  
"I am here," he whispered back, lifting his hand up to the lip of her cot, brushing her own, and their fingers intertwined.  
  
That was all Agrias needed.  
  
***  
  
Ramza underwent the same period of unknown time. When Agrias' breathing grew audible as it deepened and slowed, Ramza sat up, his left hand still twined with Agrias' right. Twisting, he leaned up to the cot, savoring her presence. Beyond the physical sensation of their linked hands, Ramza could feel her.  
  
He stared into where he believed her face was in the darkness. Tentatively, he raised his right hand, and when he realized that he was about to touch her face, Ramza pulled it back.  
  
After an exhalation of bliss, Ramza carefully slipped back into the floor. Reluctantly releasing his sleeping maiden's hand, Ramza followed her into the realm of dreams.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
I'm thinking this should have been meshed with the SongScene that preceded it, but the two are distinctive enough that it would have diluted them had they been lumped together. The challenge, then the resolution? No... that would have been far too fairy-tale.  
  
The chapter's title explains it... coming to terms. Everything hasn't been fixed, and hell, the problems are beginning to stack, yet, admissions have been made.  
  
Most likely, a reader is probably going to be thinking:  
  
*Why does Agrias seem so bipolar. Either she's interested in him or not... how can she both want Ramza and reject him?  
  
*Ramza is too perfect, too suave, too etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...  
  
*How come they are both dancing around each other? And wait... hasn't less than a week passed... they are going too fast!  
  
*Why is the author bitching about his personal life? Like we care. Write more, dammit.  
  
I don't really know why... that's just how their personalities have come to develop, and in a way, remain stagnant. I'm viewing this not over the actual amount of days that have taken place in the story, but in the time it took me to write this far... which is a period lasting over a year now... so that may explain it.  
  
Admittedly, Agrias and Ramza were paired before either one met the other in this story. That's my bias. Going into a rant as to why I believe they should be together is as banal as going into a rant as to why the idea of Ramza and Delita having a romantic relationship is abhorrent to me.  
  
I've wanted to write soliloquys for Ramza and Agrias, respectively, but that would be too decisive. Yes, it might solve the problem of defining their character, but I don't want to get locked down into the realm of the solid. I have the story of Lion War to use as my guide, anything more would be too constrictive.  
  
The weird thing is... yeah... even I don't know where the two finally accepted each other. Somehow, it probably wasn't in this scene. I keep on being reminded of Scene 08, yet another nighttime event ^_^.  
  
***  
  
***Omake*** (for those of you who actually read past the notes)  
  
***  
  
When the banquet died down, Mustadio realized that he had been left behind. The engineer didn't mind so much. He knew he wasn't a part of Ovelia's entourage, and if anything, he only sensed hostility from a couple of the women in that group. It didn't matter to him. The princess and the cardinal were the ones that could help him get his father back, though he was grateful that Ramza had decided to help him as well.  
  
Early on, Mustadio had slipped away, finding himself a companion to spend the evening with. The wine they served felt more like brandy, or another strong spirit. Still, as much as he fancied the tall and wide- shouldered woman who attached herself to him, Mustadio balked at what to do.  
  
He had never danced with a taller person in his life. He forgot what they talked about, the conversation lost in the alcohol. Eventually, the time came when he had to retire back to his library.  
  
"Good night, Tamina," he slurred out, wondering if he remembered her name right.  
  
"Going to bed this early?" his companion replied. Mustadio thought he saw something in those eyes as he was drunkenly lead away. Mustadio leerily walked behind his companion, trying to be discreet as he stared, wondering why he felt something was wrong with the way she walked.  
  
"Was the dance tiring, miss?" Mustadio asked, referring to the problem.  
  
"Oh..." his companion replied, "I've had that problem all my life."  
  
Mustadio lost track of what happened after that until they reached the room Tamina was quartered in. Something about the décor in the room, and the smell felt wrong to Mustadio. Yes, some of the scent was floral, but the rest was too familiar to be comforting. When the door latched behind him, Mustadio's unease finally verbalized itself.  
  
"What's going on, Tamina?" he asked. "Do you live here with another man?"  
  
"Oh no... it's just me... well, the two of us tonight," his companion replied, embracing him from behind, and it was then, as the sleeves of his companion's dress peeled away as they circled around him, that Mustadio realized that his companion's biceps were larger and hairier than his. "Why do you call me Tamina, my name is Thomas," a husky voice breathed into his ear as Mustadio felt Thomas hold him tighter.  
  
***  
  
A dull-pitched scream wrenched itself through the stone walls of Lionel Castle. Immediately, Agrias and Ramza jolted awake, becoming alert.  
  
"Ramza!" Agrias screeched, reaching down to the floor to touch him frantically, feeling naked caught away from her weapon. Its locked with Ovelia! She raged.  
  
Likewise, Ramza was also alert. Quickly, he groped for a small pouch he had placed on a chair, and in the darkness, his lit a match and lit up a candle.  
  
"I think that sounded like Mustadio," Ramza murmured sleepily as the screamed repeated before it was abruptly muffled.  
  
"Oh..." Agrias said, beginning to relax. A weird look appeared on her face as she reached over and took the candle from Ramza's hand. "We'll take care of it in the morning." The tone that she said it in was almost pleased, Ramza realized.  
  
"But... he's in trouble," Ramza said, confused.  
  
"In the morning," Agrias said, blowing the candle out.  
  
"It could be an attack..."  
  
"In the morning," she said, her tone happy as she curled back up into Ramza's cot.  
  
***  
  
***Omake*** (the end)  
  
***Omake Notes***  
  
Yes, I am a horrible human being.  
  
Also, to the Mustadio fans out there... don't worry, none of the omakes actually happen in the story. Or so Mustadio would say come 'morning'... oh, okay, I'll stop it with the perverted jokes.  
  
I don't know which was funnier, what happened to Mustadio, or Agrias' reaction.  
  
***Omake Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
Well, not really much to say that hasn't been expressed in the notes...  
  
Um, yeah, its become painfully obvious that Agrias and Ramza have become stagnant.  
  
As to the pace of the story... its something I will not change since I am content with the rate that it progresses.  
  
The point of how the characters could deal with the issues of betrayal when they are having problems with romance is a valid point. My cop-out excuse is well... I'll leave it to the next update. Damn... that questions causing me to think, and I'm reading my own print-outs of this story in my off-time.  
  
Yeah, it must be awkward for a stranger to talk about his personal problems... its how I vent, though, and I don't write anything that isn't comedic unless it has personal significance to me (it's a metaphor for something in real life)  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	17. Interlude 01

***Author's Notes***  
  
Please, if you are able, play your copy of 'Vertical Horizon's' "Everything You Want" to absorb the most out of this scene.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
ACT 02, INTERLUDE 01 (ACTUAL) "Everything You Want"  
  
***  
  
Opening her eyes to find herself on a verdant hillside that rose out of a lake, Agrias knew that she was dreaming. The only sense that she believed that she experienced was sight. Still, it felt real enough to her. Even though she knew it was just in her mind, she wondered if the sensation that she inhaled was actually scent, the ability to smell of the water. As she noticed the aroma of wet earth, she realized that it had just rained.  
  
Finding herself wearing what she normally wore under her armor; a long, off-white linen tunic with a faded-blue skirt, Agrias wondered how she could feel the wet grass beneath her feet, if it was all a dream, her mind active while her body was at rest.  
  
When a breeze, blew, Agrias shivered, covering herself with her arms and instinctively turning away from the coast where the wind approached from.  
  
She wasn't alone.  
  
There was a light grove on the hilltop, a collection of bent trees, their drooping branches festooned with slender olive leaves. Laid against one of the trees, his form silhouetted, was Ramza, his tussled hair familiar as the sun of the orange sky beyond him, bathed him in amber, his shirtless form flickering with the shadows of the branches that sheltered him.  
  
Agrias smiled as she saw the peaceful expression in his face as she hiked up the hillside, laughing at herself as she almost slipped on the moist blades of grass. "Wake up, you!" she called out to him merrily, immersing herself in her fantasy, something at which she was amazed that she could conceive.  
  
As she neared him, she felt suspicion rising. "Ramza..." she said, wondering why he did not wake. Something was indeed, wrong. Curling her legs under her, and tucking her skirt against her calves, Agrias kneeled next to Ramza. His half-lidded eyes stared into nothing, and as she touched him, though there was still warmth, yet his flesh was still, no pulse, no movement, no life.  
  
She did not scream. She could not scream. Her mouth hung open as a repressed croak escaped her throat. Only when the right side of Ramza's mouth quirked upwards into the hint of a smile did Agrias cry out as rivulets of crimson flowed out of the corpse's morose smile.  
  
"This is not real," Agrias told herself, unable to relinquish her hold on Ramza, instead drawing his body closer to hers, the living clutching the dead. Even as a spike of rage built up within her, Agrias curbed herself from inflicting it on the nearest object: Ramza, the corpse she held in her arms, the tender, loving care coming too late.  
  
Another smell assailed her nose asides from the copper of Ramza's blood, his face held close to hers as she held him to herself, distraught.  
  
The saying the grass is always greener on the other side of the hill did not apply for once.  
  
Ramza's corpse was not alone. On the other side of the hill, bodies were strewn about. The metal armor of soldiers mixed in with the dull cloth of peasants, they all shared the fact that their wearers were dead.  
  
"Make it stop," she asked. "Please, make it stop," she repeated, trying to convince herself to awaken, to return to the plane of the conscious, to escape the nightmare that she had created from paradisiacal bliss.  
  
The body she held stirred, and Agrias prayed, pleading to the powers that be that it wasn't just her body shaking as she began to lose control of herself. Ramza coughed, and she released him as he spewed a spray of blood as he convulsed.  
  
Concerned only with him, and ignoring the carnage lower on the hillside, Agrias tentatively touched Ramza, unable to believe, unwilling to trust what her eyes 'saw,' resolving not to let her hopes rise simply to be driven into the ground. The first vocal sound Ramza made was a scream as he tore himself from her grasp and flailed forwards on the group. It only escalated as he placed his hands onto the ground beneath him and tore clods of soil along with the grass.  
  
Agrias could only stare as the flesh on Ramza's shoulder blades at his back began to bulge. He went silent as the protuberances only grew larger, and Agrias watched in morbid fascination as his flesh finally burst. What emerged from the gore was a pair of black wings, somehow unfolding from where they were recessed in his back. They extended, their miniature size dumbfounding, recalling to mind painted icons not of angels, but of cherubs; cherubs with black wings dripping with blood.  
  
Forgetting that she should have been awake, Agrias continued to stare as Ramza passed out from the pain, following his example as both of them lost consciousness within the dream.  
  
***  
  
The second time Agrias awoke in her dream, she found herself on another isle, one that floated on the sky. There were still see clouds above her, yet her viewpoint was also moving as it hovered above the plain. Looking below, she saw images of war from afar. The blackened remnants of torched fields, and the glowing embers of burning towns and torched woodlands. Columns of black smoke rose to mix with the white clouds, and there was a gray haze that came to be between heaven and earth.  
  
"This is not real," Agrias concluded. "I am not going to let my fears take control of me," she told herself, her words filled with conviction as she made a stand against her subconscious.  
  
Agrias had had enough. Closing her eyes, she vented her rage in the only way she knew how at that point. She screamed, her balled fists causing her to inflict pain upon herself as her nails dug into her palms.  
  
***  
  
She awoke in the embrace of a presence she had no trouble discerning as Ramza's. She was in his arms, her body curled as he carried her. "Don't you dare lecture me," she muttered, embracing him, staring into his face, now animated, those red-ringed orbs that were his eyes soothing her as she stared into their obsidian depths, wondering what she could see through the portal into his soul.  
  
"I shattered that nightmare," she told him, wondering why he did not speak. As he let her down, and she felt her covered body slipping against his unclothed torso, Agrias reached her arms around him in return. His smile did not lose its tender quality even as he chuckled. She felt his wings, and unbelieving, Agrias plucked a feather from him, causing Ramza to grunt.  
  
Giving him a wicked smile in return as Agrias kept a guarded attitude, she brought her prize between their faces, and as Agrias examined the short ebon feather, Ramza blew it from her fingertips, and she was left staring at his same patient, amused, and caring expression.  
  
"You're not a part of that dream?" she asked him, wanting to know what did this all mean.  
  
Abruptly, he released her, chuckling softly.  
  
"What are you trying to tell me?" she called out as he turned from her and began to walk away.  
  
She began to hear voices in the background, and she paid attention to her environment in the first place. It was a realm of darkness where she walked on an invisible plane, and low light came from unknown origins.  
  
Turning his head to the right to look back at her, Ramza playfully lifted his left wing, the black feathers fluffing as if Ramza was displaying his plumage. Lowering that wing, Ramza continued to walk away.  
  
Growing frustrated, Agrias began to follow after him in the path that should not exist where nothing was. As she began to run, a melody began to play. Pulses of sounds begin to assail her ears from her sides, alternating as she raced to catch up with Ramza's fleeting form.  
  
Agrias stopped when she began to see other forms in the darkness. Not forms, but images, and unlike before, they were not nightmares of what may come to pass, but reflections of what came before. They were all of Ramza. Times that she had spent in his company, good, bad, but never indifferent.  
  
The sounds that she had heard was their dialogue from then, and it was when she realized that fact that Ramza –the black cherub in front of her- stopped, and began to sing.  
  
"Somewhere there's speaking," he told her his voice lilted to the music, speaking in quick melody. He elaborated. "It's already coming in," he phrased, and as an afterthought, added, "Oh, and it's rising at that back of your mind."  
  
As she looked on, confused, Ramza continued to sing. "You never could get it," he changed his tone, keeping it gentle, yet firm, "unless you were fed it." He turned to face her, gesturing low with his arms and high with his wings. "Now you're here, and you don't know why..."  
  
A scene was brought into focus of the events that transpired on Bariaus Hill, as she remembered herself there, exhausted, almost defeated.  
  
"But under skinned knees," he pointed out, "and the skid marks," he continued. "Past the places where you used to learn," he highlighted her exposure to the outside world. "You howl and listen..." he paused. "Listen and wait for the..." he stretched, "echoes of angels who won't return." At this, he flurried his wings in humored emphasis, and somehow, they grew to envelop him as he disappeared from her sight.  
  
This was when the Ramza's in her other memories began to sing. "He's everything you want," they chorused, "he's everything you need." It was a gentle accusation, one without barbs, but with feeling. "He's everything inside of you that you wish you could be," they confronted her gently. As Agrias balked as she stood there, mesmerized by what was happening, the voices continued their rhythmic testimonial. "He says all the right things, at exactly the right time," they sang, reminding her of all the times he had pierced her veil with his speech. Smoothly, the voices' inflection changed. "But he means nothing to you, and you don't know why," the voices stretched out.  
  
Another apparition of Ramza appeared beside her, one of him clad in the purple and gray armor and cloth he wore when they had first met. It was he who began to sing, not to the Agrias that watched it all, but to the Agrias he guarded, the one that kneeled in the rain, drenched in anguish as Ovelia was stolen from her ward.  
  
"You're waiting for someone," he began, looking upon the Agrias that was torn, "to put you together," and as she rose to meet his supporting hand, hesitation took over and caused her to refuse his support. "You're waiting for someone to push you away," he remarked in the same tone, making it clear who was who. "There's always another - wound to discover," he accused, gently reminding Agrias of all the times that she had made excuses that shouldn't have been. And as Ramza stood there as the anguished Agrias in battle armor glared at him, he confronted her with the truth. "There's always something more you wish he'd say," he concluded, looking resigned and confused.  
  
This pairing disappeared, replaced by the desperate Ramza that appeared before her as she spurned him after he had declared that he would leave her to pursue the Zodiac crystal, galled that he would abandon her for a relic. "But you'll just sit tight," he accused, staring at an Agrias who held herself aloof, ignoring him as she tried to stay in the distance. "And watch it unwind," he finished the statement with audible frustration. "It's only what you're asking for," he commented sadly as that Agrias' façade began to crack and her troubles showed on her face. "And you'll be just fine," he continued as the Agrias that divided them began to lose control of herself, "with all of your time," he pointed out, letting her know what he believed. "It's only what you're waiting for," he finished bitterly as the two of them faded away.  
  
The night spent atop Dorter's roofs was brought into focus, and as the Agrias then stared into the cobalt evening, her Ramza gazed at her, singing. "He's everything you want..." he sang, ignored by the woman he serenaded. "He's everything you need," he pressed, trying to get through. "He's everything inside of you that you wish you could be," this Ramza repeated. Reaching forwards to take her hand, he sang softly into her ear. "He says all the right things," he paused, "at exactly the right time..." a sigh, "but he means nothing to you," he crooned, "and you don't know why," he told her as she turned to look at him, confused herself at what he confessed.  
  
The demonic angel that Ramza had become in her dreams reappeared, as he summarized for her. Approaching her rapidly, he sang, "Out of the island," he reminded her of where they first met, "and into the highway," he indicated the invisible path she had traveled, the collection of her memories, "past the places where you might have turned," he clarified, indicating the faded paths she could have taken in life. "You never did notice," he sighed, "but you still hide away," he accused her. "The anger of angels who won't return," he finished, his wings fading away as he took her into his arms.  
  
Agrias felt herself falling into the feeling of Ramza's cot, and when she blinked, it was she who stared into Ramza –her Ramza- as he sat on the floor beside the cot he had given to her, looking down upon her. He was whispering to her in the darkness, illuminated by the same light that came from nothing. "I am everything you want," he sang in that sad melody, "I am everything you need," he continued. Pausing as he sobbed, he followed with, "I am everything inside of you that you wish you could be..." he whispered, broken. His voice was lost as he continued the song. "I say all the right things..." he hesitated, "at the right time," but he concluded, his voice becoming more morose, "but I mean nothing to you," he spoke to Agrias as she stared into the source of his voice in the darkness, "and I don't know why," he seeped out, anguish filling his song.  
  
"And I don't know why," he repeated as he pulled himself away from her, and slipping back into his stone mattress. "Why.." he trailed off, lost, his voice losing energy as his voice faded away. "I don't know," he finished, and he was gone.  
  
The silence reigned as the melody she had heard in the background went away. She lay there, wondering what would happen next -what apparition- nightmare, fantasy, or memory would confront her next.  
  
As the seconds accumulated into minutes, and as more and more she felt uncomfortable, feeling an itch from the covers in the parts of her legs that her silken nightgown did not cover, Agrias came to a conclusion:  
  
She was awake, cast out of the realm of dreams.  
  
Acting on her emotions, she slipped herself off her cot, and into the floor. Finding the table, she groped for the matches and a candle, and the room was lit in burgundy. Setting the candle and its stand back on the table, Agrias curled her legs beneath her as she settled in besides Ramza, staring into his features.  
  
The confidence and satisfaction he had shown her before was tainted with sadness and hurt. Joy mellowed and tempered was no longer joy, having been hammered into another emotion. Looking upon the one who cared so much for her, Agrias felt a trickle of tears flow from where they gathered at the sides of her chin onto his hand as she took it in hers. Words were not enough as she searched within herself to answer his questions –and hers.  
  
Morning would find her laid out on the floor beside him, her sleep devoid of dreams and thought, overflowing with emotion as her awareness drowned in oblivion.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Dreams, the realm of the surreal.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
In dreams, fantasies, or reality –in which do you revel, trust, or deny?  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	18. 16 Morning Sickness

***Untitled***  
  
***Harvey's Message***  
  
If you've never read my notes, please, do so now, especially if you've been with this story for a while  
  
***Harvey's Message***  
  
Awoken by the cries of a chocobo, Ramza knew that morning had arrived, even from their suite within the keep. Curiously, he looked up at the cot, noticing from the lack of a bulge or hanging limbs that Agrias was no longer there. Yawning, he sat up to look around himself, wondering why he felt that he was not alone.  
  
She lay at his side opposite the cot, and Ramza let his gaze linger on her dormant form. Ramza felt no guilt as he admired her, observing her as she slept, slightly curled, her limbs pointing towards him, as if he had slipped out of her grasp. He felt only affection, not lust. Most of her blanket was beneath her, the black slip she wore making her a shrouded figure, a living testament to that which Ramza identified as woman.  
  
The blank expression she wore caused Ramza to chortle when he first noticed. Contemplating what may be, Ramza continued to watch her as she slept. Frowning as his thoughts wandered to how she would hate being discovered like this, Ramza rose only to kneel as he gently pried hands beneath her. Dawdling to savor the feeling of her warmth pressing against him, Ramza wavered as he carried her and shakily placed her into his cot.  
  
He was reluctant as he moved away, kneeling as he did so as he tilted his head to look at her face. Hesitating, he chose to move away before he would have touched his lips upon hers.  
  
It was then that her eyes flickered open and the clean look that she had hardened into something that resembled displeasure.  
  
"Good morning," he murmured, staying where he kneeled, patiently waiting for her to reply as she blinked. He stifled any reaction when Agrias caught herself as she was opening her mouth to take yawn, her lips drawn in embarrassment. Understanding, Ramza stood, taking a step back. "Do you want to sleep in?" he asked.  
  
Again, she made no verbal response as she shook her head. Laying her head back down on the cot, she turned so that she would face Ramza. She gave him a smile, one that he did not know how to interpret, and found himself mimicking back. Slowly, she shrugged. Leaning her head down into his pillow, she said with her voice muffled, "Its up to you. I'm not looking forward to meeting with that woman..."  
  
Ramza chose not to comment. "I'll make us some tea before I find a way to get ourselves breakfast."  
  
"The others?" Agrias brought up.  
  
"Still asleep," Ramza replied.  
  
"Oh..." Agrias replied, grunting. "Yes, I would like some... please."  
  
She watched Ramza as he turned away, and she herself ogled him, noticing the folds made in his clothing by his body while he slept. She had felt herself being moved and laid down, so she had an idea of what happened to her, yet not of what she dreamt except feelings of rising fear, anxiety, and affection?  
  
Her attention was aroused further as Ramza looked from the kettle, to the dead corpse of wood in the fireplace. Contemplating a decision for several moments, Ramza turned around to face her.  
  
"Instead, I'll go to the mess and have them bring us a meal again," he said slowly.  
  
"And..." Agrias picked up.  
  
"Maybe you could wake up the others and head to the bath first."  
  
"Oh," Agrias laughed, as her tone lilted towards sinister honey "Are you implying that I have a foul odor?"  
  
"No..." Ramza replied, stuttering, "I-I... you seem to be worried about your breath..."  
  
"Oh, I smell the same as a ripe behemo-" her laughter escalated as Ramza panicked and hurriedly made his way to the door and left. She lay there, basking in joy, feeling no guilt at the fun she had at his expense.  
  
Finding herself alone for the moment, Agrias lay back in Ramza's cot, idly fingering the stitch on Ramza's blanket. Briefly, she tried to remember what it was that she dreamt, for when she had awoken, she felt only rest, not rejuvenation; the latter came from Ramza. "Everything I want?" she found herself saying. Shrugging, Agrias agreed with what came from within.  
  
***  
  
"Hmm?" Agrias remarked as Ramza looked into the room not long after he had left. "You can't be that fast," she continued.  
  
Ramza did not how to interpret that statement, so he simply walked in and turned to let a familiar adolescent squire walk into the room.  
  
To her credit, Agrias did not seem alarmed by the presence of the young squire. Slowly, she sat up in the cot, Ramza's blanket covering her still as she tucked it from within to rest on her shoulders.  
  
"The cardinal wishes to inform you that," Macaulay began, "that... if her majesty is able, that her new protective detail will be having breakfast with her in the women's barracks."  
  
Feeling that he should do something, Ramza moved between Macaulay and Agrias, facing her. "There should be enough time for us to wash and change..."  
  
"It's alright," Agrias replied automatically. She tilted her head, giving the two squires an indulgent stare, before locking her eyes onto Ramza's.  
  
Upon the hesitation that followed, Ramza placed his hands on Macaulay's shoulders and guided him out of the suite. "I don't believe I am invited," Ramza remarked, pointing the fact out, and upon Agrias' turn of expression, he elaborated on his point, "though you could justify it somehow if I was a guest."  
  
"Go wash," she commanded him. "Now."  
  
Playfully, Ramza nodded and left, leaving Agrias alone. Sitting up in the cot, her calves over the lip as she folded her legs across herself, Agrias took a moment to savor the tedium.  
  
***  
  
To her surprise, none of the three conspirators made any comments about what may have come to be the night Ramza and she spent together in the front room. The four of them were at the woman's bath, not to bathe, but to wash –Agrias thought to herself that the bath would be best after she ran through the gauntlet today.  
  
Sniffing her forearm, Agrias mouth curled open as she noticed that the castle's smell was upon her. It was a curiosity that she had never managed to lose, that annoying habit of always noticing the different scents of the places she had been. She would have thought with the exposure she's had to so many parts of Ivalice, that her sense of smell would've grown less sensitive.  
  
"Ladies," Agrias said, rousing the attention of the other knights. "One more thing: you have nothing to prove."  
  
"Against them?" Alicia remarked. "Are they really going to replace us?"  
  
Uncomfortably, Ovelia entered the conversation. "I won't let them replace you..."  
  
Agrias shook her head. "It isn't that." After a moment she continued, "Well, a little. We need them. Three of us is nowhere near enough to defend you."  
  
"Neither is a squad, or a company," Lavian began in rhythm, "or battallion, not even a regiment." Pausing, she took a small towel she dipped into a basin of cool water and scrubbed at her face. "An army?" she mumbled through the moist towel, and Alicia chuckled as she watched the other knight's face masked by the damp cloth.  
  
"What do you mean, Agrias?" Ovelia asked.  
  
"Trusting others with your safety is difficult enough, but she," Agrias stuttered, "this woman –she's trying to push us away."  
  
"I will not let you be pushed aside," Ovelia reiterated.  
  
"I know that, and I thank you," Agrias sighed. "Perhaps its only a misperception, yet..."  
  
"The Tabatha woman right?" Alicia piped up. "It would make sense boss-lady. Lionel has its own version of the St. Konoe, used to at least. It makes sense that they would try to edge us out; we're competition, if you think about it." As Agrias hesitated, she grunted. "I see... that bitch, huh?"  
  
***  
  
Ramza felt very self-conscious as Agrias meticulously went over his clothing –he regretted ever bringing his pre-mercenary tunic out of retirement. "Someday," she murmured, as she pinched the folds of his right sleeve, admiring the weave of the fibers. She looked into his face, and her stern expression wavered. "You look decent."  
  
"It's a compliment, trust me," Lavian said behind Ramza, appraising him and giving Agrias an analyzing glance.  
  
"Everyone set to leave?" Alicia said to herself, impatiently beyond the open door in the hallway. "I'm hungry."  
  
Ramza blinked as Agrias grasped his hand as she made her way to the door, following Ovelia. Understanding that part of her felt upset, Ramza squeezed her hand, even as he twisted to avoid being pulled into the doorway's frame.  
  
"I think I've lost my appetite," Agrias muttered.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Some apologies are in order. That fragment of a scene has been hovering in my archives for two weeks now. The direction of this story hasn't so much changed direction as began to develop on a different plane. I am lost, and flying blind has lost its appeal.  
  
This post isn't a continuation, but an announcement.  
  
I've lost the will to work on this project, so I suppose you can hang the 'discontinued' sign on this one.  
  
Remember how I kept mentioning I've been having emotional problems?  
  
Dealing with my friends got too much, and I couldn't talk to them because of pride and the feeling that I saw things in them that was never there, that I was closer to them than I ever was.  
  
This was my conduit for releasing some of that anger and frustration, and, right now, I don't feel like I can keep doing this.  
  
My Agrias ran me down when I walked away from them, and I finally became honest with her.  
  
Yes, my Agrias.  
  
For those of you who felt used, well, nothing that I can say.  
  
Especially those who tried to offer criticism and concern as to where the story was going. You were fighting against my emotional issues, not just mistakes, so it was unfair towards you people.  
  
Minka, Renfro, Ilvy, C-Bahamut, Highwaywoman, Alpha-Drac, TWH... and the people I'm too inconsiderate to remember, thank you for indulging my immature ways for so long.  
  
Laziness, satisfaction, bliss... I don't know if or when I'll find inspiration again. Cuddling Diana is more fulfilling than writing about her ever will be.  
  
***Author's Notes*** 


	19. Miscellaneous Theater 01

***Author's Notes***  
  
Since the fic is in the idle bin, I'm taking off my normal restriction of keeping it linear. Meaning, I'm writing scenes that relate to the story, but don't necessarily fit together in the timeline.  
  
Not even sidestories, yet parts of the story I have not yet meshed together as they would have been had I written it straight through.  
  
Though, I admit, it does give me a lot more room to work with, as well as creating new avenues for me to walk down and peruse.  
  
Its inspiration of the wrong kind, yet it calls.  
  
As to the actual content of this one:  
  
Fighting/Action meets character relationships.  
  
I have the feeling most of you will hate it or simply not understand.  
  
The focus is on the emotion, the body language, the actions of the characters.  
  
This is something I've been thinking of since I began writing the first scenes.  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
Duty and Conscience, Truth and Reality Incoherent Records – a series...  
  
"In Conflict, There Is Peace."  
  
***  
  
Ramza did not feel fear, nor did he feel confusion.  
  
He felt terror turning into excitement, his body beginning to respond on its own, providing its own impulses.  
  
Clad in his old tunic and cloth pants, Ramza strafed upon bare feet, avoiding Agrias –clad in the off-white and blue dress of the St. Konoe- as she applied a two-handed thrust with her weapon, beginning low, aiming high into his chest.  
  
Twisting his torso as he bent forwards to the right, Ramza stepped forward with his left foot to pivot towards Agrias, going past the oak rod she held that simulated a blade, intending to stab her left side with the smaller cane he held in his right. He expected her reaction, but it still hurt.  
  
After she released the grip she had on her rod on her right, she backhanded Ramza across his brow, immediately pivoting her left hand to bring her weapon back across where it would score a light wound along Ramza's back upon his shoulder blades.  
  
In turn, he surprised her by meeting her counterattack, his headbutt into her arm sending a shock of pain as Agrias overextended and locked her limb. She gasped as she felt the tip of his cane probe where the left side of her ribcage met her belly. She exhaled as he carefully removed his weapon just in time for the shorter cane that he held in his left hand to trace vertically across her right side to come to a rest at her armpit.  
  
His crimson eyes heavy, lidded, and his expression implying sensuous excitement, Ramza withdrew, his weapons reluctantly drawing away from her, their touch slowly fading away.  
  
As Agrias began to breathe normally, she realized just how winded the two of them were.  
  
Ramza couldn't stop the lopsided smile he had. It faded as she grinned at him in return.  
  
"Again." Her voice was dusky, arousing his attention even as she flicked her left wrist and twisted to the right to laterally slash Ramza.  
  
***  
  
Ramza felt worry as he sparred Agrias. Fighting had always brought him satisfaction, if not fulfillment. However, he had never felt joy as he did now. To enjoy the act of trying to destroy another was something he had always feared and loathed. Now, he reveled in it, little care in his attitude.  
  
His primary concern was how to break her guard, her range, her advantage.  
  
He held two weapons; the one in his right little longer than that arm, half his handspan extending below his grip for counterweight; the one on his left simulating an elongated dagger, the length from his fingertips to his elbow, with less than a knuckle's length below his grasp.  
  
Agrias, however, held a weapon nearly as long as his combined, in a stable –rigid- two-handed stance, her form much more limited than his, yet solid and powerful, having reach.  
  
To stand off and exploit a slip wouldn't work again, he knew, resolving to dissolve his reluctance in approaching her this way.  
  
Ramza paced back, allowing Agrias room to develop breathing space as he focused on what he would do next.  
  
Take her on the offensive.  
  
***  
  
Agrias began to retreat, sidestepping as she sought to weave Ramza in tighter to the spiral they danced on the training room's rough stone floor. There would be no slipping on this ground, except in one's blood against the little knives that the stones were.  
  
Likewise, she was excited, intrigued by the aggression he now displayed to her. The constant drive he displayed on the battlefield was here, directed against her! However, where his eyes had been filled with anger, his were filled with amusement, pleasure, the intensity identical, but the emotion opposite. Magnitude unchanged, the direction tangent.  
  
The counter-thrusts she applied failed, all of them nearly successful, yet failing. The aspect of Ramza she feared and desired –his intensity. She knew he wasn't serious, yet he was, in his way; his intention of conquering her, on the battlefield, and beyond. She was inflamed, her femininity challenged, courted, and now engaged in battle.  
  
Through the confusion and the maelstrom of her emotions fighting her desires, Agrias reveled in this conflict.  
  
***  
  
She mimicked his circular, yet linear, strikes, fascinated by how his sticks danced upon hers, guiding it across herself as one of them would strike and attempt to disable her, yet Agrias managed to break free by paying off her defeat with distance.  
  
In battle, she would have cut him down several times, yet she knew, for every scratch, every gash, every wound she would have inflicted upon him, he would have slivered her flesh in multifold.  
  
His drive was restrained, displayed to her, yet refusing to fulfill his potential.  
  
Likewise, Agrias restrained herself, resisting opportunities to take him, beyond her advantage, forgiving of his mistakes.  
  
As he exhaled sharply, making a dull 'eh!' sound, Agrias replied, shuffling forwards to meet his charge.  
  
***  
  
Ramza presented his left side to Agrias, angled towards her, his short dagger-replica attempting to engage Agrias' weapon, whilst she simply tried to slash or skewer him. His right hand, turned away, kept on rotating in half-circles, forward, or back, his longer cane continuously moving, coming forwards to ward Agrias off or to feint.  
  
Ramza's shoulders grew sore, the fatigue and ache beginning to spread lower in his arms and from his thighs up into his torso.  
  
His throat had gone dry.  
  
***  
  
Their martial intercourse continued heedless of victories achieved, imagined blood shed, their lives flowing through the others' hands.  
  
Wondering why, even in her advances, she was on the defensive, Agrias channeled the energy she had left, even as the vitality in her limbs ebbed, and her lungs burned for fluid air. Her right forearm was in tender agony, strained from the stresses she had inflicted upon herself when she decided to wield her heavier weapon with only that hand, freeing up her left to knock aside Ramza's right wrist as he swept his weapon in across her.  
  
He still scored an impact that grazed her right side besides her ribs, the sensation she felt as her breath was driven from her, a luscious gasp torn from her by his touch.  
  
His grim smile became hers as the short stick he held in his left hand failed to deflect the rotary strike she imparted with a twist of her right wrist, his attempt only glancing the weapon onto the right arm that struck her, instantly flicking forwards into the right side of his waist.  
  
This was when Ramza thrust himself onto her.  
  
Agrias froze as Ramza engulfed her, or rather, her taller form absorbed him. Her weapon having just blindsided him, he pushed forwards, and she felt his sore sides slide against that which defended her, until his stomach met her hand, closed fist holding onto her sword, trapping right forearm between them both, and as Agrias felt two faint strokes that traced from the back of her thighs to her shoulders, she almost lost herself.  
  
Her body became rigid, the tension she felt an experience unto itself as her muscles became taut cables upon Ramza's weapons jabbing softly into the flesh on the back of her legs.  
  
Sensuous torture began as he traced his weapons upwards, flanking her curves before converging at her back.  
  
A halfhearted attempt was made by her to grapple him, but as her weapon slid from her grasp to their sides, the clatter of the oak upon striking the stone floor, she slumped onto him, her head resting upon his shoulders. As the hairs that grew down the side of her head in front of her ears brushed past his cheekbones, she sighed, tranquilized.  
  
***  
  
Ramza sat on the ground, leaning back, his arms supporting him as his head was turned to gaze towards Agrias besides him. Blissfully exhausted, she lay on her side on the stone floor, her legs in scissors as she gazed back upon him. Her breaths were deep, audible, and robust.  
  
"You do not have much form..." she told him, verbalizing one of her observations.  
  
Ramza 'mm'-ed in response, shrugging. "I rely on ferocity... consistent aggression and intensity."  
  
"I do not complain," Agrias told him. "It is..." she chuckled, "refreshing." Languid, she undulated to bring herself closer to him, pulling her dress down as her clothing began to outstrip her. "You are effective at what you do... reckless, but , oh..." she sighed, "passionate."  
  
Moments passed as Ramza lay down on the stone floor, wondering why the carved rocks and set mortar felt warm, sheepishly reaching out with his left foot to nudge Agrias with his toe.  
  
She made a small squeak as she recoiled playfully, though Ramza wondered at the hint of alarm in her reaction, seeing something within the cores embedded within walnut eyes.  
  
"Ramza..." Agrias said to him, her voice faint. "Come back..."  
  
Through his teeth, Ramza took a breath, the tranquility that he basked pierced by Agrias' fear. As he shared her happiness, joy, and satisfaction, so did he share her hatred, insecurities, and woe. Likewise, as she simultaneously sought security within him and to shelter within herself, she also fought with the beasts that lurked inside of him.  
  
Closing his eyes, Ramza paused. The answers were within him, glowing, yet intangible. "I shall," he replied, his tone light –there was no way that he could sound out the sincerity that he meant. "When I return... will you..."  
  
His relaxed voice trailed off as he felt two items landing softly across his stomach. Grasping them and bringing them up to his eyes, he saw that they were his weapons. His body sore with a dull ache, Ramza swayed as he rose, exchanging glances with an Agrias drawing from her stimulated reserves. She stood firm, yet weariness emanated from her, something resembling resignation smoldering, and once more, Ramza found himself at her center.  
  
To defeat, or to be conquered, to be repulsed, and to be shattered, to be shunned... to be loved.  
  
It was almost enough to cause Ramza to return to his knees and lay his weapons down, yet understood that Agrias would hate such a surrender, for such submission to fate would kill him, Ramza knew, as Agrias believed.  
  
Either may fall, both, or none. Surrender could never be accepted for it symbolized abandonment of the other; the adversary's identity was immaterial. To fight, that was their release.  
  
It was their lives.  
  
***  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
The chapter was not meant to be literal so much as emotional and I'm hesitant to reveal - poetic, even though I cannot define how... I simply feel that I placed emphasis on flow and repetition of feelings and thoughts above any plot.  
  
In a different shade... this story was written with emotions that one could call 'erotic.' The intensity, the patterns, and the feelings are similar, if not identical.  
  
Please, I did not mean anything deviant in this, except to display how two dysfunctional people could share a moment of intimacy with the other in a medium that neither were aware of -and thus, are able to commit themselves to.  
  
Truthfully, I do not see either of these two as capable of sexual intercourse, marriage or otherwise (I'm a pervert, yet I'm a prude)... and, in the upcoming events, how believable would it be for these two to become married? To be lovers would be enough of a strain, though, Ramza has been courting Agrias since their first talk on that night at Dorter.  
  
Not that they wouldn't, but Agrias would be the one to halt any attempt at matrimony because of what is going on around them. Commitment is an issue Agrias will waver on far more than Ramza. It isn't an insult about her, its an observation. The way she thinks and acts indicates that she'll feel the most hesitation and misgiving about any union with him.  
  
While the 'action' segments of this could be revised, expanded, and converted into a duel that is beyond the other conflicts I have ever written... it would ruin the emotions and flow of that which I wove in.  
  
Though, there may be a re-write of this scene... so often has it floated through my minds at various points of writing.  
  
BTW, if you saw any sado-masochistic undertones in this... please, you're looking too deeply into the wrong departments. Its a trust/release dilemma... and their outlets are different. Though, I do have to admit... Agrias does come off on the domineering side...  
  
***Author's Notes***  
  
***Readers' Response Corner***  
  
Yes, the story is discontinued, however, I will still continue to write pieces of it.  
  
I will not deny that I feel joy that people miss the story, if not me, though I feel sad that a source of release has been more or less, abandoned. Still, the fic calls to me, not when I lapse in life, but when I feel joy, just as I had at the beginning of the project.  
  
My problems will seep in and influence the fic tremendously, as they always have, and always will.  
  
Having some time to walk away from the fic and observe it from a distance, I have come to some conclusions:  
  
I tried to create a semi-novelization (my writing-style is just that slow) of the tactics plot, with a severe twist not only in the form of the Agrias/Ramza relationship, but an attempt to focus deeply on Ramza -well, including Agrias- and his thoughts, actions, and motives.  
  
I wanted to portray him not as the contradictory innocent that he was in the game... where his character was too clean, too angelic... too perfect a manipulated hero.  
  
In making him more human, more tangible, I believe I have achieved success... some at least.  
  
In breaking away from the mold in which he was cast, I have failed. Ramza is still a very strong character, almost omniscient, yet his weaknesses seems so glaring, that one wonders how does he keep from breaking apart?  
  
Overdramatization is a sin that I have chosen to indulge in. The worst part about that - I do not feel penitent... a contradiction of my values...  
  
Yet... this story, even if it isn't completed in this medium, the theme of a passive/aggressive male and an aggressive/passive female will continue to be something that I will explore.  
  
It is my story.  
  
I am arrogant enough to believe that I have contributed something memorable in the fandom of Final Fantasy Tactics when it comes to fanfics, and I want this fic to have a home outside of ff.net.  
  
***Readers' Response Corner*** 


	20. Unfinished Scenes

Author's Notes  
  
The fic is still sideboarded, and I have less than sixty days before I ship out for Missouri. Even if it is summertime, I have other things to focus on besides physical training: I need to say goodbye to those I'm leaving behind.  
  
This installment will be the last, and even then, its incomplete. They are the beginnings of several scenes in which I have run out of steam. Failures in creation.  
  
Author's Notes  
  
Crucible Notes  
  
Misc Scene: (A prequel to the story, covering Agrias' Fifty-Years' War career)  
  
Crucible Notes  
  
"Crucible"   
  
"Square!" Agrias cried out as she ran into the wreckage that remained of the enemy's wooden fortifications.  
  
The company she was a part of had been sent in as a morale booster. The royal family's Order of St. Konoe were committed as part of the reserves as Ivalice mounted a counter offensive in Zeltennia.  
  
Ballistas were brought into play after the mages sent into the front were slain before they could set fire to this fort's timber walls and earthen ramparts.  
  
The Black Sheep lead the charge even as the walls were being shattered by the metal-capped stakes launched by the ballista battery the Ivalicians had finished constructing on the spot.  
  
Agrias had almost faltered as the first massed volley or arrows launched by the archers struck an infantry column of that paced the squads she was amongst. These were not ranging shots – the enemy had become familiar with this patch of no man's land. The screams she heard confirmed that at least three soldiers had fallen.  
  
The second, third, fourth, fifth, and umpteenth subsequent volleys took more.  
  
There was no slowing down to drag the wounded off the field, and Agrias muttered a prayer that the subsequent waves would reach the fallen in time. All there was for her now was to charged through the gaps and take the gates. It was so simple a plan... so simple a plan that the enemy was crafting into a trap for them, Agrias knew.  
  
Such was the trap she met once she cleared the fallen section of the timber wall.  
  
"Form a square!" she cried, repeating herself. The senior knight that lead them died as he threw himself into the shallow encirclement the enemy had formed around the gaps in the wall. Agrias screamed as she saw her comrades running into death so that those behind them would not be swamped.  
  
It wasn't only the knight officers that suffered, but also the squires, chemists, and priests that followed as well. Agrias realized when a priest that had followed them into the fort was taken down by an opposing squire that the rules of warfare didn't really apply anymore. The priest had exposed himself, tending to the wounds of a fallen knight.  
  
Following the one who had taken the initiative to take command in the vacuum of leaders, the surviving squires formed on Agrias as she ran the only direction she knew was both death and survival: at the enemy within.  
  
The initial resistance the enemy had faded as they retreated into the platform on the wooden walls and almost half ran deeper into the fort into another set of barricades. Agrias and her people were not far behind.  
  
Another killing zone had been formed.  
  
Of the two score that followed her, only three meshed squads remained, less than half of the ones who made it to the walls. If we die now, at least the second wave will hit before they can seal the breach, Agrias thought, her fear of death beginning to fade into resignation. The anguish that she felt was also compounded by the fact that for having lost so many, they had taken so few of the enemy, who gave ground instead of blood, and the inverse price the St. Konoe paid.  
  
Crucible Notes  
  
The premise was to be the early phase of Agrias career in the closing months of the FY War. It was a vivid tangent when I wrote it, but I imagine too much, and wrote too little.  
  
This is an example of one of my greatest flaws: Attempting to write in too much technical and background detail to the point where the plot and the story is diluted, ruined.  
  
I've lost the other sections of this side-project, where I experimented with the persona of a younger Agrias.  
  
Crucible Notes  
  
Scene 17 Notes  
  
This was to be the next linear installment... and the way I've written myself into so many traps and complications... its not going to pan out unless I do a rewrite and have a clear plan of where I will take the story.  
  
At this point, I was tired of writing the backstory and structure... and I wanted to indulge in pure WAFF.  
  
Scene 17 Notes  
  
"Scene 17"   
  
Agrias and the others continued to eat breakfast as almost all of Draclau's soldiers left. Two knights, in non-formal dress, stayed with them, politely eating.  
  
It would have been unreasonable to refuse the cardinal's support, and their terms were favorable except for the fact that Agrias would not command them. However, neither was Agrias being replaced. Instead, she would return to her role as the primary bodyguard, yet she felt something taken away from her when the role that been thrust upon her was taken up by another. Agrias had to cope with the fact that, for the better and for the worse, she was no longer wholly responsible for Ovelia's safety. She grunted as she thought back to the shift system the cardinal had put forward for Ovelia's watch; the St. Konoe was not included.  
  
Lavian ate methodically, whilst Alicia scooped, swallowed, and repeated her motions. Neither could offer their leader anything that could make her feel better; Agrias believed the cardinal's logic was just, but she struggled to accept the transfer of power.  
  
Nine women would reinforce them, a number Agrias found almost excessive. Typically in the military, for every eight soldiers, only one was female. Even in the integrated units, the ratio was skewed; all-female groups were oddities created for publicity or to protect eccentric VIPs.  
  
The steaming dish in front of her cooled, congealing. Wincing, she looked towards Ramza as she repeated Tabatha's message. "You leave before the next morning..."  
  
Silently, Ramza nodded.  
  
"You cannot be serious," Ramza said softly in the barracks' yard.  
  
An armored squire, who had trim on his leathers that marked him to be attached to a dragoon unit, held the reins of Boco in his right hand, and Windfall's on his left.  
  
"We are cavalry..." Sanders told him as other saffron chocobo were lead into the yard from the stables.  
  
"Wee-hoo!" Mustadio screamed, unseen.  
  
Helplessly, the soldiers under Sanders' command could only watch as the engineer, mounted on a chocobo –backwards- plowed through the small herd of chocobo. Only the stirrups held Mustadio on.  
  
Mustadio's exultations warped into terror as the Chocobo halted suddenly and flung him. For a moment, Mustadio flew, flailing limbs makeshift limbs, baggy sleeves and legs canary and cerulean feathers.  
  
He impacted upon his back, inverted, against the ceiling of a gardening shed, the thick sound of his descent complimented by the shattering of wooden slats.  
  
His groan signaling that he was, at the least, alive, the soldiers began to laugh. This only heightened when the ceiling gave way, and Mustadio followed the collapse into the shed.  
  
"Good omen?" Sanders said to Ramza, who just shook his head at the oxymoron.  
  
Even in armor, Ramza was uneasy to approach Boco. The squire and the chocobo were on a tenuous understanding: so long Ramza left Boco alone, there would be peace.  
  
"Warbird," another dragoon remarked, attending to his chocobo as a squire helped adjust the chocobo's harness. "Your chocobo."  
  
With a small inhalation of breath, Ramza nodded his agreement. "When we first met, no one rode him. We fought," Ramza clarified.  
  
"Guy le Roux" the man introduced himself, extending his gauntleted hand from where he sat atop his chocobo.  
  
"Ramza... Ruglia," the squire replied monotone.  
  
Giving Boco a sad look, Ramza turned to face in Sanders' direction and called out. "I will need another mount."  
  
"You'll have to trade in your chocobo for something else," Sanders replied, waving Ramza over to him.  
  
Taking the reins from the younger squire, Ramza led Windfall to someone else who was an outside in the group of Lionel dragoons. A black mage, a wizard, dressed in unevenly faded blue robes, striped and baggy pants and sleeves, and face shrouded by an acute straw hat with a wide, flat brim.  
  
Wondering if he would have luck, Ramza began to talk to the black mage.  
  
As the day peaked and began to ebb, Ramza completed his preparations. It was obvious that he and Mustadio would only be required to be around the city, not to participate in any actual operation. He missed the activity, finding the tedium atrocious, accusing. Now, all that was left was the departure itself. To leave Lionel Castle for Goug, the city of machines, where Mustadio would confront his destiny. Ramza chuckled at that, bemused at a thought that resembled how he used to be once upon a time; a year, a lifetime, an eternity.  
  
His sword, in its scabbard, was tucked into the harness of the red chocobo that he had bartered for. It had cost him extra gil in addition to Windfall, but Ramza felt he had a fair deal.  
  
The hardier, larger, and more robust chocobo would be ideal as a mount. However, Ramza knew he would be relying on the bird only for transportation, and training the bird for fighting while ridden would take time that he did not have. Somehow, he knew that he would need to ride chocobos once more, not into battle, but away from trouble, the same turmoil fomenting above Ivalice.  
  
Tucking the bird into the stables at the dragoons' barracks, Ramza excused himself and returned to the main wing of the castle.  
  
What he had to do next wouldn't be a preparation, but a meeting that he anticipated, dreaded, and desired.  
  
"Are you ready to leave?" Agrias addressed him bluntly, after being pulled into a side corridor.  
  
Ramza felt winded, but it wasn't short breath that caused his pause. He realized that he had nothing to say. Nothing new, nothing significant, no earth-shattering revelation. The desire to be around was enough, though he felt discomfort on his part, he savored the proximity.  
  
"Do you need my help?" Agrias' expression did not soften. Instead, she dug in, her bearing hardening.  
  
Bothered, Ramza shook his head. "I wanted to know if you needed any assistance..." Ramza murmured. "My help?" he trailed off softly. Taking a small breath, he said in a louder voice, "All that is left to do is to depart at dawn."  
  
Agrias flinched, and Ramza knew then that he had wounded her far worse than any challenge of verbal rebuke that he could have leveled at her. "Do whatever you wish."  
  
She expected Ramza to leave after the awkward moment she created, yet, the boy stayed. There was no false bravado, no show of strength on his part. He simply stood where he was, and even through the armor he wore, it was evident that his body sagged.  
  
Scene 17 Notes  
  
Confused? I am too.  
  
One of the reasons I've stopped writing is that I didn't feel that I had a coherent story anymore, and towards the end, the story became very personal to me, and I am not going to put someone through the trouble of editing my story not knowing that they were encountering errors and inconsistencies based on my problems in real life.  
  
The subject the scene was to cover was Ramza's final day with Agrias before he left.  
  
I wrote myself into a trap in that I placed too much importance on this day. In effect, I spoiled the story for myself, and I was trying to make this section of the story more significant than it was.  
  
Scene 17 Notes  
  
The Morning After Notes  
  
Literally that.  
  
Since I lost steam in writing the prelude to Ramza's departure, I chose to cover the immediate aftermath, from Agrias' POV. I was trying to focus on her again, since those who are left behind feel a different pain from those going away.  
  
The Morning After Notes  
  
"The Morning After"   
  
Agrias awoke in bed. The pale heat of the sun shone through the slats of the wooden door that lead to a balcony, warming her to an uncomfortable rising. She hadn't dreamt, only slept, floating in oblivion, an ache beyond her mind beginning to intensify as her consciousness rose and developed.  
  
Wincing, she turned her eyes to the dim portions of the room, cast in shadows. She felt sore, wondering why she was in bed half-dressed. She still wore her dress uniform, the stiff leather portions beguiling her. Stretching from where she lay, her stomach down, she had a feline expression as she rose to her knees and extended her arms forwards as she curled her back. Pleased that she had enough presence of mind last night before she passed out to remove her boots, Agrias lied back on her side and regarded the darker half of the room, facing the door.  
  
When she noticed the bitter and sour taste in her mouth to be her own breath, Agrias nearly gagged. Spotting a pitcher by the bedside on a table, she took a sniff of the contents before beginning to gargle the water. Looking around, finding no convenient place to spit, she wavered as she stumbled into the outside, her eyes closed. Her hands fumbled in front of her, feeling for the banister as she slowly opened her shut eyes. Leaning forwards, Agrias coughed out the contaminated liquid, retching over the rail.  
  
"Damn this light..." she muttered, turning to stagger back into the room she awoke in.  
  
Pausing at the threshold, Agrias pondered why she was in this place, instead of Ovelia's suite. Turning to view the contents of the balcony, she found a table, furnished by two rough stools. An opaque cobalt bottle, corked, was kept company by a pair of wine glasses, their bell-shaped cups held aloft by curved necks stemming from a circular base. Blinking, Agrias focused her eyes enough to read the wine-stained label on the bottle as she walked to the coarse table. He pilfered this from the wine cellar, Agrias thought, before wondering how she knew the bottle's origin.  
  
"Ramza..." she stated. It was plain. An idea, an emotion, a monologue.  
  
"Come tomorrow..." she said softly, remembering his words. "Tomorrow... I'll be gone."  
  
The haze of alcohol that fogged her mind was cleared by a revelation.  
  
Dawn had passed, and she was alone.  
  
Lionel was warm, yet Agrias shivered on the stone floor of the balcony, looking past the rough-hewn rails. She reclined against the sun- baked wall. Staring levelly at the table with the decanter and vessels undisturbed, Agrias sifted through the emotions that began to surge.  
  
Her face was sore, and she could not cry. The inflammation of her nasal passages was a welcome discomfort; she could attribute the pain she felt to a physical source.  
  
Her breathing slowed, as her vision dimmed, and soon, Agrias succumbed to the need for air. She shuddered as she gasped -a dry moan. Her eyes returning to focus, Agrias stood from the floor without assistance from her arms, she wavered.  
  
Able to tolerate the light, she regarded the sky. Agrias surmised that morning was nearly past. In this instance, she did not rush to prepare herself to return to her duties. She felt lethargic, deprived, missing a critical aspect; knowing the source of her turmoil was no relief. Wondering why it was she who felt displaced, Agrias went to clear the table. Sifting the stems of the two glasses in between the fingers on her left hand, and grasping the bottle with her right, Agrias strode back into the room in which she awoke.  
  
The wine in hers had not yet been finished, and Agrias paused mid- stride at that observation. How do I know which is mine? Bringing the rims to her face, Agrias inhaled the stern scent, almost a taste. In that moment, it was night again, and she felt warm despite the evening's chill.  
  
The wine was burgundy, warmer than the air, heated in the glass'es bowl cupped in her hands above her lap. Raising her head from how it was bowed, her eyes saw Ramza's outline, his hands held together in front of the table before him, his gaze morose as hers was mournful.  
  
When Agrias blinked, she was where she had always been during her recollection: in a room within Lionel Castle, separated from he with whom she shared that final night.  
  
Numb, Agrias sat back on the bed, attempting to sift more details from her memories of the night before, finding them as if they were a dream. So vivid, so real, yet, when grasped, they become ephemeral, enigmatic, evanescent.  
  
She wanted to blame the bottle that stood on the bedside table, half- finished.  
  
The Morning After Notes  
  
Maybe its best that I stopped writing then... before she found the ring.  
  
The Morning After Notes  
  
Author's Notes  
  
Those were three scenes that I was working on over the past few weeks that I have simply lost the will to work on. I still imagine, and ideas come to mind, but when I sit down in front of my computer, I feel no will to transcribe those thoughts.  
  
Author's Notes  
  
Readers' Response Corner  
  
"I'm leaving on a jet plane... don't know when I'll be back again..."  
  
For the most part, I'm sure for the better part of the next year, possibly the next three, I will not be able to write.  
  
Do I still intend to finish this project then?  
  
Not in the form its in now.  
  
As I've said before... Ramza and Agrias' story is something I will continue. Their names may change, but the characters whom I have given the names of FFT characters will continue to live in my mind.  
  
I'll write again... for now, I'm beginning to go back to learning through reading. Not so much literature as history and science.  
  
Minka, Highwaywoman, and all the guys I'm too inconsiderate to remember:  
  
The only way I'll ever stop being an author is to kill me.  
  
I'm too selfish and prideful to stop expressing my thoughts.  
  
For now, my focus will be on succeeding in life.  
  
Readers' Response Corner  
  
To she whom my heart belongs:  
  
In admitting and revealing my love for you, you have helped me discover that I love myself. 


	21. 18 Resurrection

Foreword: One year of hiatus later, and the story returns. However, there is a missing chapter, one of my 'scenes.' The infamous 17th Scene... the nightmare behemoth of literary roadblock and quandary that it is... has been lost. Ramza and Agrias' farewells, the formation of his new mission, and Agrias' perspective on her own tasks with Ovelia... has been destroyed.

It may have been for the best... as from the ashes has come this new phase of the story. The writing style is the same, but without the dynamic of Agrias and Ramza working in conjunction, I know that the mood, the pacing, and something else I struggle to define has changed. Against posting rules or otherwise... I'm going to begin posting more of my notes and reference material online. I'd rather not have to split the same space of text with both story and in-depth equipment/character detail. And... for the more hardcore players... yes, that means the actual builds.

Getting past that morbid tone... here's to hoping it won't take me twenty chapters to take the story to the eventual reunion beyond Warjilis Trade City.

Chapter 02-18 "Resurrection" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 18)

January 15, Year 2 En Route to Zigolis Swamp

Zigolis Swamp; Ramza thought back on its infamy. On the northern coast of the Lenalian Peninsula, it was the forsaken and polluted grave of Romanda's Second Division, along with nearly the entire Lionel Corps. Ramza remembered a banner of a topaz chocobo against a sapphire aegis, the edges trimmed in black; a fallen battalion of the Hokuten, its colors retired, and only that aegis standing testament to all the fallen men who carried that badge to their deaths. Hokuten's cavalry perished in that battle, the dragoons and archers composing the ranks of the Hokuten disappearing from the roster long ago to where the regiment Ramza would have one day inherited consolidated itself to knights and their supporting underlings. The sword was the preferred weapon, with holy techniques being hoarded by the Hokuten as relations with other holy knights and the church itself detiorated post-war.

He wore that fallen emblem now upon his revised kite shield -crudely painted from descriptions of faded memory to an armorer who was more heart than skill at heraldry- the mithril notched on its right side to accomodate the shortened mithril spear he carried now as a dragoon. He mused, that his past was no longer that most important thing he was running away from now, and it brought him both welcome -and yet unrequited- distraction.

I am Hokuten... Ramza pondered, thinking back to a discussion he always conducted with himself. As much as Beoulve was my name, I cannot deny who I am, or what my duty is. The lightning battalion of the Hokuten was reborn. His father's former unit, one of a handful of survivors from that unit.

Ramza scanned the party of other riders that accompanied him and Mustadio. Another dragoon asides himself, Vittorio, was the leader of the Lionel soldiers sent to quell Bart Trading Company. Two other mounted knights served as officers, along with a full quartet of archers, whose chocobos had saddlebags on either side weighed down by quivers.

Estevez, the groups lone geomancer had been picked up immediately outside of Lionel Castle in a detour. Few used the sunken route of the northern coastal road, most detouring along the central ridges, or by the ferries along the southern coast. In the haunted swamp, only a fool would be without a geomancer who knew the land.

When asked, Mustadio confirmed that he had taken a ship to Warjilis, which was how Bart had been able to find his trail.

Two chemists rode along on overweight chocobos. The group was also assigned an opposing pair of mages, one white, the other black -Ramza was amused by the conflict between the chaste female and the malevolent male. Lastly were six squires reequipped with longswords at the last minute. Ramza snorted at that arrangement. Asides from the chemists being unable to fight on horseback, the squires themselves were limited by their weapons. A spear, a bow, and even magic were the only weapons suitable when riding chocobo. The image of decapitated mounts was something even Ramza had seen whilst he participated alongside seasoned Hokuten in the extermination of the Death Corps. Chocobos had a nasty habit of moving their heads around during combat, as both mount and rider fought.

In all, twenty, a platoon-sized force that Ramza knew was capable to clearing out at least a block even in criminal infested slum. He shook his head. I had less men when I swept Dorter, even fewer at their cellar. And the Death Corps had been veteran light infantry, adept in urban and remote environments.

Against thieves and criminal sorcerers, Ramza analyzed their only failing was lack of mage support. Then again, chocobos easily closed that gap Ramza rationalized.

His mind wandered on this ride as signs of a battlefield, second only to one other in notierity during the Fifty Years' War, increased. Abandoned siege machines... dismantled catapults still with piles of boulders alongside them, ballista with barrels of rusted bolts, and on more than one machine that Ramza saw, the helmed skull of a Romandan soldier speared to the ballista he must have manned, and peering over the tall grass, Ramza could see the rest of his armored bones splayed across the ground.

He remembered that Romanda's mechanical siege corps was the first line the Lionel Corps had shattered, even as other Ivalician units were coming through the peninsula from. Zeltennia's famed light cavalry did this, Ramza thought; over half of Ivalice's dragoons belonged to the forces of that province. When flanked, the Romandan frontline was surprised that Zeltennia's Argent Lancers did not try to strike their rear, but instead rode straight through to slaughter the crews of the siege machines which had begun to dig in for preparation of the Ivalician counter-strike.

He knew it was morning, but just as the vegetation continued to become a corruption of green, the sky itself dimmed as they closed on the swamp.

At the edge of the swamp, Ramza and Vittorio consulted with Estevez, who long ago had taken point with his crimson chocobo. "We have two choices... less than half an hour from this edge is a place where we can camp for the night-"

"Unacceptible," Vittorio interrupted. If we are to intercept those criminals, we cannot afford the loss of half a day; already their informants are en route to sail into Goug from Warjilis. We don't need to rest."

Estevez' beard was an extension of his tawny hair, making the man a lion beyond his stature and deep voice. Grizzled features, leather and fur, along with a scarred battle-axe contributed to his subdued feral aura. "Ah, but the dead do, till the sun wrests the day from the moon."

"Feh," the wizard chimed in from his black chocobo, his face hidden by the brim of his straw hat. "Living... dead... living dead... they all burn." The group proceeded to tune out his cackling.

"I do not jest," Estevez intoned deadpan. "In Zigolis, it is the dead that have not seen the end of war."

The raven-featured Vittorio shrugged it off in his charcoal armor. "Nevertheless, we will keep to our timetable..."

"As the fallen will to theirs," Estevez said finally before nudging his red chocobo into the rocky outcroppings that was the only landscape not absorbed by the swamp.

Less than an hour into the swamp, trouble was spotted. Weapons could be heard, the crackle of energy as mana coalesced and detonated mid-air, even the splashing of combatants... but lacking a very human aspect.

The screams... were nonexistent. No voices, no commands, no frenetic shouts, rallies, curses, exclamations, or pleas. Just the dull thunder of steel and plasma upon the soil, water, and air.

"Estevez, do you believe they are ours?" Vittorio queried, waving his left hand to rally a squad of soldiers. "Blue team," he ordered, "Prepare to engage. Ruglia," he addressed Ramza, "I can take care of the engineer, but we need a dragoon accompanying them." Evenly split, a knight formed a line of chocobo along the raised embankment of three squires, two archers, and a chemist who slung forward a bag filled with magic-infused orbs to be used as grenades. The archers were each flanked by an attendant squire whilst the remaining chemist and squire formed upon the middle-aged knight. "Sir Medici? We'll anchor here and hold this position... do not lose contact with us..."

"Blue leader, prepared, the knight replied, nonchalant.

The tawny geomancer only chuckled. "You really do not know anything of this swamp, yes?" Cutting off Vittorio's reply, he continued. "This poisoned land has a strange quality. It brings death to life, and conveys the opposite to that which has long ceased to be.

"Speak reason," Vittorio remarked, confused. Looking at Ramza he only received a shrug of the mercenary's spear. "The dead... do not... walk."

Haunted was the eyes of the geomancer, Ramza observed. "Young one," he intoned grimly, "you give those that came before far too little credit."

"Peace here exists not for the dead, keep that in mind," was all Estevez said, once again continuing on his own. Even as Medici's squad looked at Vittorio for orders, Ramza wheeled Boco to follow the crimson chocobo into the olive mists, the chocobo clucking at the poisonous muck it had to traverse in between the rocky outcroppings.

"Think... for a moment," he called back. "None travel these routes save soldiers and whomever else foolish enough to venture into no man's land. What bandit, pray tell, would prey this cursed swamp?"

Behind Ramza, Mustadio rode up alongside. "I don't think Estevez is wrong. Eccentric, but not deceptive."

"So here, ghosts are real," Ramza said softly.

"Blasphemy," replied the priestess who had caught up. "Evil spirits, yes... a haven of devils... not fallen soldiers." She sniffed. "Its not fair to them... to die continuously? I refuse to believe such heresy against God's ways."

"Sister Anja," Ramza addressed her coolly. "I truly hope that our guide is simply quixotic, for the sounds of that conflict come not only from one side, but all around... listen."

"What?" the priestess said back. "Its coming from-"

"Our left, our right, our rear..." Mustadio said out loud, his voice increasing in proportion to his understanding. "We're surrounded!"

"By what army..." Ramza replied, shrugging again. He followed with a shiver that only Boco observed. A chill passed through him more than the twilight breeze as the light of the sun began to be eclipsed by the moon.

Ramza knew better than to expect corpses on the ground still in full regalia; the skewered Romandan ballisteer he knew was left as an example, yet the morbid background of a battlefield was evident. The Zigolis lowlands, before it had ever become a swamp, was known to flood periodically, anchored by the highlands as the northern ocean swept in over the depression. The swampy terrain Ramza now traversed was once a thicket seperating a farm, he noticed, spotting, and traveling upon fallen trees that could only have been cover from hedgerows that separated crops.

Now a bog, even the water itself was a nauseating shade of green... rotting material, plant or otherwise. "I forgot what it was that Romanda left behind that would poison the land..." Mustadio remarked to Ramza. "Sure as hell, a swamp wouldn't kill you with just a moment's exposure."

"Is that why we're all leapfrogging the dry areas?" Ramza said in turn. "I remember that the 2nd Romandan Division relied on total war tactics..."

"Scorched earth, more like," cackled the wizard, who earned a reproving glance from the priestess. "Their engineers sabotaged the dikes along the coast once we forced them from the field... they killed their own rearguard in the ensuing flood"  
"It isn't simply manmade," the priestess said, red locks hidden by her white robes, "but the malice itself prevalent among us during that time. Romanda came not to conquer in turn, but to reduce to ash for the evils we wreaked upon their land."

"Not enough," the wizard quipped, irking Anja, "If we did things right the first time, those bastards wouldn't have survived to adulthood and wreaked revenge."

"Its scum like yourself that are responsible for this travesty," riposted the crimson-trimmed Anja.

"Lady? If I was there, not a single child would have been spared. Can't exactly dish out payback if you never make it past puberty to grow the balls you need for it." he remarked so that one could have imagined the sadistic grin on his obscured visage.

It had begun to rain. Ramza looked up into the dark sky to feel water run from the visor of his stylized helm onto his face and down his neck. His armor kept him well insulated, with the interior and lower leather shell. Lightning flashed, an amethyst bolt from the heavens smiting something upon the earth.

It cleared the fog even as its thunder was heard. Ramza only grunted at the sights before him even as the Lionel soldiers recoiled at what had been revealed. Scanning Estevez' uncovered head, Ramza saw it shaking in bemusement.

Even as another forked arc struck the horizon, Ramza analyzed the shapes revealed. Besides the armored hulks of what once were men, floating apparitions drifted... disappeared, phased back into the mortal plane in a lazy path towards their formation. In lieu of birds were the Ahriman, appropriate sentinels in this wasteland.

"Holy..." The wizard muttered, before looking back at his counterpart. "No offense."

In a small voice, Anja could only shake her softly. "None... taken, Edward."

"I trained against people, not the undead... who knows how..." Vittorio said, even as he against sweapt the lance in his left hand above his head. "Form a line, contact imminent!"

"I have," Ramza remarked, before revealing some of his past. "We had to take forbidden routes like these before. Simply because they fall does not mean they are out." A groan from one of the squires interrupted him. "Protect the mages and the chemists; allow them to close. Steel alone will not kill these foes."

"So be it," Vittorio replied. "Medici, takes the mages, Enrique, you have the chemists." He turned to Ramza. "And how now?"

"Fighting the dead with those who preserve life..." Estevez said as he doubled back from where an Ahriman was approaching him. "Boy... you

Ramza would have replied had not a sapphire sphere emerge from the reforming fog to strike a squire.

"McCall!" A middle-aged archer screamed, distinct from the other four females by graying hair and a green beret.

"I'm all right..." he gasped as his chocobo spun while he reeled in the saddle. He continued to shudder.

"Deal out the holy water!" Vittorio screamed at the chemists. "Douse your weapons." He shook his head as the battle took shape.

An urge to laugh struck Ramza. These beings aren't necessarily evil... he had discovered that while resurrection and healing damaged these beings... holy attacks did not. "Mages," Ramza supplanted. "Down ether as much as you are able..." Already he charged ahead to take command of a group of soldiers as he once had before. "Our objective is Goug... fight through this thickness..."

"We're not too far from a safe path," Estevez murmured. "Two hours hard ride should place us in an isolated band of this swamp."

"Then do not lose sight of him," commanded Vittorio. "Advance!"

A the wizard eagerly produced his own flask as a chemist was handing Anja a supply, he raised it in toast. "You don't have to tell me twice."

Given orders, the panic from the undead began to shake off the Lionel troops. Even as the thrown bottles of blessed eau shattered against the chain mail and plate of the squires and the knights, remainder were poured down longswords and even shields.

Meanwhile, the archers had taken matters into their own hands. Half the Ahriman were subdued with the second and third following volleys of wood and steel. However, they themselves were being struck by the same blue balls of life-stealing energy that followed the trajectory of their missiles.

Already, the two Lionel squads, each flanking the center, had advanced. Hastily, the wounded were downing potions in preparation for the onslaught as their chocobos waded and charged through the polluted mire, saffron, purple, and crimson feathers all become blackened with filth.

The center was spearheaded by Ramza and Estevez, with Vittorio in close proximity. Mustadio hung back as he began to fire shots.

It was then that the ghosts phased back into the mortal plane.

Ramza twisted upon Boco's back to see Medici fall from his saddle unconscious and into the swamp's pools. Immediately, a squire rushed to his aid while the remaining two squires, archers and the chemists continued on their straight path towards the emerging forms of ghouls in the fog.

Ramza tilted forwards as he lined up an armored ghoul with his spear. Bracing himself into the chocobo, counting the portions of moments it took him to grip the chocobo only with his legs below the knees, the imagined sight of contact bobbed as he struggled to weave his spear into alignment.

It was a rewarding surge of pain as he lanced through the rusted breastplate of his foe. It was only in the flash of the moment during impact that Ramza saw in detail his foe. Blackened flesh were cloth had long ago since decayed, straps of leather and metal plates, links, and bars were all that remained of what was once armoring and clothes. Romanda... he recognized the crest that he had pierced. Like the undead he had led his squad to fight when they had become lost returning from the desert, it was a hellish sight that shook him to his core.

Awareness of the others disappeared, and for a moment, it was only Ramza... Boco... and suddenly, he could see the thousands of living dead around him. All of them bathed in a pale, argent, and diffused glow. He felt no mercy as he destroyed the body of his opponent however, even as his light extinguished and flickered into the stormy heavens. Something triggered in Ramza, and just as in the battles he waged when he was still Hokuten -those two years resembling eternal purgatory- as the spear exited the mangled corpse, reality returned, and Ramza Beoulve was born again.

To be Continued

Author's Notes

Erratice workschedules in the Army require me to post what I can, when I can, and as such, don't be surprised to see the same amount of posted chaptes, but constant modifications and additions being done on the latest segment.

Oh, and on another note... its good to back.

Author's Notes


	22. Condensed Mist

Author's Notes

Yes, I'm still in the sandbox. Managed to get this done amongst other things, though a continuous path I haven't accomplished yet. This one scene is just the most complete and coherent of the bits that I have accomplished.

Lacking in detail, since my motivation in this one was to drive the story into open waters yet again, and to avoid the looping frustration that accompanied the scenes in Lionel Castle.

Inconsistencies abound since its been over two years since I started the story... hopefully will have them addressed soon enough, but one of my main intentions was the portrayal of the evolution of the characters.

For the moment, enjoy.

Author's Notes

Condensed Mist

Dorter Trade City

The Green Goose; the inn that Gafgarion's mercenaries and Ovelia's bodyguards had spent an evening less than three weeks past.

Alone in the room with the young man who stood next to her in the demise of a life she thought was secure. Alicia, Lavian, Mustadio, and the reunited members of Ramza's platoon filled the other rooms of the inn, whilst the angelic demon refused to let her be alone as she struggled to surface from the ocean of turmoil she was drowning in.

It had been three days since Ramza and company limped into the city after being taken aboard a coastal barque(1) on the western coast of Lesalia.

A perplexing twist for him. Now, it was not he who was numb, but Agrias. The first time Ovelia had been taken from her custody, inside, she felt only anger, shame, and the will to redeem herself.

The conspiracy laid out in front of her, Agrias realized that she may as well have never been. Immaterial of what she could have attempted, Ovelia was a sacrificial lamb, and the knights of St. Konoe merely tended the offering to civil war that Ovelia had been all her life.

Could she really be free? she wondered, as she had received no less than four letters in that timeframe, conveniently finding her, of all places, in Lionel, before her word of help could even have gotten to Lesalia.

Release. The termination of the St. Konoe's mission from being the princess' guard and the transition into defense of the Imperial loyalist coalition in the upcoming war.

Ovelia. Simon. The Royal Chamberlain. The warrior-bishop of the St. Konoe. Four people, different motives, yet one ultimate conclusion. For her own protection and gratitude. An old man's concern. Monarchial intrigue and compromise. From disillusion and the call to war.

She may as well have never been. Her own order all but stripped her of authority and command, all her subordinates suspect as well. No position to even get close to Ovelia again and extract the princess from her role as a tool, the future of the imperial throne, wielded, no more than a sceptre, an ornament to be worn as a crown.

Alicia, Lavian, and the three other female knights that must have heeded her call for rendezvous sometime in Orbonne was all that she had. Where it all began. Or was it all in Lesalia itself, several years ago? A fresh veteran who caught the final insignifact skirmishes of a war long since concluded. Bloody formalities when she still believed in Ivalice. A bright-eyed princess that Agrias felt not only duty towards, but sisterly affection.

For naught. All for naught.

And now…

Ramza.

Ramza Beoulve. The Beoulve… one of the great houses of Ivalice. The guardians of the throne. Had he matured… she knew that he would eventually have ascended to lead one of Ivalice's most capable units; steel and ether. Dycedarg and Zalbag were old dogs in comparison, still leashed by their upbringing through war.

Innocent was something that had to be stripped of Ramza. Agrias wondered if Ramza was aware that he was selected to eradicate the Death Corps to prepare him, to give him experience, experience not only in war, but against other Ivalicians. Unfortunately, the boy has a conscience, she pondered, wondering at how it may have been if they had not gotten involved together in this affair. Would I have fought him…

She looked up from her side of the couch to Ramza on the opposite arm. His eyes… his eyes, she blinked and hurriedly looked away. Unlike before, there was no denial on her part of acknowledging that she was blushing, and the rush of adrenaline and Ajora knows what else that she felt.

She was in lust… no… not lust, but she was afraid to admit more. Weary of the lies, tired of the restrictions self-inflicted, exhausted from discipline.

Eyes unglazed, eyes bright; how she enjoyed those windows into his soul. When there was none of the conditioning he underwent visible in his eyes.

No longer innocent, no longer pure, but by no means tainted. Tempered, forged, and proven.

The spirit of the Beoulve name, thought of by his brother's as weak for being so simple. It was they who were unfit for command of the Hokuten, or what once was the Hokuten. Corrupted, blind to what their father and his knights embodied in the war.

Agrias wondered where her allegiance lied. Civil war is something she could never wage, hating herself already for killing men and women, who once, fought alongside her in Ivalice's twilight hours. She knew she would never be within reach of Ovelia again. A glimpse mayhaps, but no longer with the ability to safeguard her former ward.

The church was quite different from Faith. Ajora ruled supreme in Ivalician thematics, yet why was there so many sects, orders both clerical and martial?

Her mother had been St. Konoe, her father, a plain warrior that never knew religion. Ironic, Agrias thought, I am only here because my mother was stricken from her order, breaking the vow of celibacy we all took. And I was all that she had of my father; the kind man whose eyes were…

"Agrias? Butterfly?" Ramza asked her, finally breaking his languid idleness during her reverie.

"I'm awake, Ramza," she murmured, vitality returning to her dormant features. Life and animation began to flood her body once more, as she shifted, unconcerned about her lack of dress -his proximity and lack of the armor he too wore as a second skin.

"So I see," he told her softly, cautious mirth in his tone, the stone angel's face softening into a smile.

"Fool," she told him, unbalanced by how she was coming back to life.

"But a happy one," he replied.

"And there's wisdom in that," she finished for him, opening the blanket that wrapped around her.

Taking the silent cue, Ramza chose to reach over to her, his body leaning all across her legs so he could bring his face up to hers.

It was Agrias who rose up nuzzled her cheek against his. Like silk, Agrias purred. Warm, silky, she could feel the presence of his soul beyond physical contact. As if her body hummed in tune to his, as her heartbeat began to emulate his; two beating as one, different entities, yet the same being. Truth and reality.

"Are you happy now?" she asked him. "You've won, you know that…"

"No, I have not," he admonished her gently as he brought the two of them up to sit together on the couch, his legs intertwining between hers. Noting how softly she trembled as he embraced her fully, his hands softly tracing her chest as he reached to clasp his hands against her back. "I take no joy in conquest, and I seek no submission from you, no surrender, only acceptance of me and all that I am, as I have come to cherish you, Agrias Oaks."

Agrias began to sob softly, and she reciprocated his hold on her, leaning against him until he leaned back and as they lay down, she felt herself being spooned into his form,

"I'm no longer who I once was, Ramza. I'm no longer a knight, I'm no longer Ovelia's protector, and worse of all, I'm unable to do anything about it. I may as well be…" she trailed off.

"Why mourn change, butterfly," he whispered in her ear, warm air flowing across sensitive skin. "You can see, you can feel, taste, and you can touch…"

Agrias nuzzled his right arm, draped over her, pulling it so that his hand rested above her heart. "And I can smell you," she remarked as she inhaled, shuddering gently.

"You remind me of jasmines," he told her.

Having no reply save a blush, Agrias sidled up against him, fitting herself to his form as best she could. Heavenly, she thought with mirth.

"Butterflies, jasmines, what else would you call me if I'm no longer Agrias Oaks, Holy Knight of the St. Konoe," she asked whimsically, allowing herself to float in this peace they provided each other, forgetting, if for a moment, the conflict of the world around them. "A maiden sworn to chastity…"

"Mine," was his succinct reply, delivered by his breath into her ear.

"Perphaps fate was not so cruel to me," she thought out loud.

"Yes?" Ramza asked, wondering what it was she replied, his heart in the air.

"I am content… for the moment," she said, tossing the lower half of her blanket over them. "Ramza… hold me…"

"I already am," came his cherubic reply, and she could almost see the grin her had behind her.

With a sigh, Agrias only closed her eyes and for the next few hours, there they remained, Ramza beginning to stroke one of her few vanities -her downy hair let down, both of them reveling in this moment of peace stolen from the world around them.

Effectively -but happily- pinned, Ramza kept watch on his new ward, wondering just how much normal development he had been deprived of during his education and conditioning to become a successor of the Hokuten. Namely, familiarity in dealing with the fairer sex.

He thought back on his previous experiences. He was no virgin; as a noble, it was almost expected of him to be hormonal, ravishing any female that fell under influence, but, Ramza's escapades fell far short of the randy nobleman stereotype.

How to court a lady, Ramza always thought of as a crock subject, having viewed women almost as a totally different creature, even at the academy. Able to match men in combat, but truly, frailer, having less endurance and tolerance to the inhuman conditions of the field; a completely different set of interaction -touch the wrong subject, and you die. Slowly, internal agony without peer. None of the dominance and camaraderie amongst the other boys, there was always that buffer that separated the boys from the girls in his experiences.

Then again, he thought, it wasn't as if I wanted to get into anyone's trousers.

Holding Agrias in his arms, again Ramza felt the same content he had before in being with a girl -a woman- now. The lust was there -yet, like anything that he associated with her, was tempered. He wondered how long not this moment would last, but this exposure of her being, shell torn asunder, the oak's weathered bark stripped away.

His own barriers sundered from where he had been comfortably numb. A state of peace he thought he had achieved, as he continued on existing, unable, rather, unwilling to abandon who he was, or who he would have become. The shades of black and white of his life had turned into the gray existence he had known in the last year. Thirteen months now since the events of those days, thirteen moons, thirteen turns of regret and reflection.

He was beginning to feel, emotion that did not echo the injuries that replaced the ailments of his sickly childhood.

Recalled to life. Warrior reborn. Purpose found. Existence justified. So many ways to think about how he had begun to care again outside of simply what he saw, but again, a cause, however dim, growing brighter in his mind again. Inspiration, motivation -that which drives a man.

What cause? Her, he asked himself… no, life could not be that simple. All I could do now is to watch my homeland be torn apart, and wonder who will claim the shattered remnants and forge this kingdom anew. The seven provinces of Ivalice. A war of the Lions; black and white, once, just how he had seen the world.

Even the Hokuten held little allegiance from him. Though he was only a boy, birthright decreed him command, and as old and childless as his brothers were, as much as the likelihood of them surviving the conflict he had known even as an adolescent was inevitable, he was the heir. Limberry was ruled through the Hokuten. Larg could only rule through Beoulve consent.

Perhaps, I could have made a difference Ramza noted, wondering if he could have survived to bring about change. Larg had done damned well in corrupting his brothers as their father waned in his deathbed. Would he himself have been spared if he refused to be collared, to be tamed, to be used?

Jasmines, he realized, his internal discourse on himself thrown to the wind as he drank in Agrias' scent. Fresh bathed, skin free of the grime she was loathe to admit coating her skin -a point he teased her mercilessly about, and warm. Mine, he thought, heated by his admission to her before he could rationalize his statement.

He wondered what effect he had on her, was it a reflection of how she began to change him. A princess to save and a civil war to thwart. Betrayal from the man you knew was sent to manipulate you…

Fodder for courtly intrigue. Frivolous indulgences that cared not about suffering, only one's conceited self-worth. The ascension over one's fellow to another circle, where the desire to climb began again.

But… with Agrias… things were simply. Red fusing purple, coalescing into blue, blooming green, ripening yellow, glowing orange, and catching fire to where the circle began.

It was not that his world made sense anymore than it had before, but that he felt that while all was not right -far from it- that he could live again.

That maybe, someday, he could rise and become who he may have been. An opportunity, a gift of blood that few have ever had, and even fewer had put to use for the benefit of his brethren. As he had once envisioned to do so with his third brother, Delita.

Just as Delita had died and become born again, so would Ramza choose to take the ashes from his past and scatter them to memory. Bitter lessons learned, scars branded into his heart and mind, yet the determination to continue, to try and try and try again. To rise up one more time for every time that he fell, faltered, or faded away.

It was not that he could no longer become the leader of the Hokuten, a defender of the realm, but that the Hokuten no longer defended Ivalice, but threatened it, and Ivalice in its current form was due for change -change that would be bought with death and fire.

He changed his hold on Agrias, satisfaction indeed, he thought. Tentatively, he brought his lips to her crown, and he tasted her for the very first time. The bittersweet taste of a girl that had given all she was to a cause now lost, and now seeked redemption, restoration to the flow of her life.

This tide would ebb, he knew, and she would retreat. Ramza had no fear or concern. Just as the sun and the moon had a cycle, so would they.

A person's internal strife is one something can only be brought to peace by one's self. Yet, such wars within need not be fought alone.

As they sustained each other in the past, so will they continue?

Till death do them part?

Ever the rogue of the group, Alicia persuaded Lavian to breach the seclusion of their motley crew's leaders. The personalities around which they had gathered.

The two knights had taken their unofficial expulsion from the St. Konoe more pragmatically than Agrias had. As much as they wished they could console the woman, they knew that Agrias Oaks had roots into the order that dug into the generations, that which she defined her life by.

"I swear," she told her companion, "she's more sheltered than you are…"

Lavian simply frowned as she normally did whenever her friend dealt her backhanded compliment. "Yes, but even so, we must give her time."

"We have time?" Alicia asked her. "Two weeks ago, we were running through wilderness, then, we had no time. Now… what is it that we do next?" she exclaimed, arms opened wide, frustration obvious on her pixie features. "Do we even know if we're still being hunted? I don't even have anywhere else to go after this…"

Lavian merely shrugged. "There's purpose into rushing headlong into more problems?" she asked, a balance to Alicia's righteousness. "Now, is the null between activity -time to rest, time to recover, and time to think."

Deflated, Alicia glared at her partner. "Whatever, its been too long that we've left those too alone upstairs."

With a smirk, Lavian laughed softly. "I remember that you were always first in pushing Agrias to, how you say… loosen up?"

"Not in that state, damn it!" Alicia bit back. "Her lost as she is, and Ramza just being…"

"Being?" Lavian prodded.

"Upstairs," Alicia grunted, gesturing at the roof above them. "Now."

With a shrug, Lavian accompanied her, not so much as to discover and prevent intrigue, but rather, prevent her partner from turning it into one. Though, for a moment, she did feel some remorse at potentially curtailing a special moment for Agrias.

Eyeing the two slyly from the corner of his eye, Mustadio looked towards the bartender. "When the cat's away," he murmured.

"Aye," the barkeep agreed, shaking his head ruefully, before taking the stein he had finished cleaning and pouring himself ale from the tap.

"Never heard of the mice actually looking for the cat, though," the engineer thought out loud.

At the threshold, Alicia hesitated, wondering if her decision to bring her dagger would be taking the joke too far, as Lavian's disapproving glare was reminder of the times that indeed, the chemist-knight had gone beyond the line.

"It does not sound as if they are doing anything inside…" Lavian remarked.

"You know how to pick locks?" Alicia asked, pulling a hairpin from the auburn bun that she kept hair on.

Shrugging, Lavian reached out and turned the knob, slowly pushing the door past the clasp, and looking sidelong at her companion, several mangled hairpins in her hand.

"Not. A. Word," Alicia hissed out. a scowl on her face.

A wan smile graced Lavian's expression, before she pushed open the door and let out a small gasp at the image of Ramza and Agrias. Together. Underneath a blanket. Agrias' shoulders bare. Her legs exposed, unclothed. A smile of satisfaction upon her sleeping visage, skin a rosy hue, and Ramza looking down upon her softly, stroking her hair with his free hand as the two were spooned on the cushions.

As Alicia gawked from underneath Lavian's hand clasped against her mouth, Ramza looked up at them, indifferent, as if he had just woken up from a nap, or another, more rigorous and pacifying activity.

He combed his hand through her strands, and as she cooed in slumber, he brought a finger to his lips.

Dumbstruck, the two knights had ideas ranging through their mind, from what was hopefully an innocent event, to indecent, to him taking advantage of her.

Edgewise, Lavian remarked to her partner, "Well, you got what you wished for."

"Five words… five words, Ramza," Alicia muttered, the sheathed dagger in her hands now having purpose, her hand barely kept under control.

"It's not what you think," Ramza calmly replied, a cupid's smile on his demure face, before returning his eyes to the sleeping Holy Knight. 

Alicia advanced on his now, her mithril dagger bared, held low and reverse, the ideal position to drive it in deepest into flesh and to rake. While she had no intention of really hurting him, and inside she believed that things may not be as they seem, Alicia felt that for pulling a stunt like this, she would show them who the trickster was in her trio. "That was a contraction," she emphasized, fire in her emerald eyes, "making it six."

"You are one to talk," Lavian remarked, a little alarmed now, but still feeling surreal as to the state in which she found her superior and the boy whom had befriended them in all, Agrias more so in particular in this situation.

At this moment, Agrias and her hazel eyes golden with fury awoke. She tensed under the sheets, opening it and revealing that she was clothed -barely- by a silken slip slid low. She took a small breath, and as Ramza began to move, the purr that he drew out of her turned to a soft growl. "Move, and you die. All of you."

Taking the culmination of his experiences avec les femmes fatale, Ramza chose the best action; he did as he was told, and he resumed his exploration of her hair, committing to memory as much of her features by touch, vision, and scent that he was able, the first time in his memory that someone opened his heart to him in mutual bond.

"I'm still your leader, and I will never abandon any of my girls," Agrias gently admonished them, "but this, right now, is something that I need," the desperation of her situation evident in the chord of her voice, melancholy, with underlying passion and sheer desire underneath the desperation that still wore upon her. "I am healing, and I feel as I'm in a cocoon," she stated, "so, leave us be, and I will emerge as I was before; different form, but the same soul."

Flustered, Alicia made a martial about-face, turning her head to look back upon the two. "We were only worried for you." She took a small sigh. "The same goes for you Ramza. Like it or not, you're part of us now." Another shrug.

Taking her subdued companion under her wing, Lavian remarked to them, "Well, congratulations to the both of you."

"Pray tell, oh maiden more holier than thine," Agrias crossly tossed out, "what do you mean by that?"

Lavian only sighed. "Little steps, I see, Ramza."

Ramza grunted softly as Agrias felt him nod in agreement from behind where he spooned her. "I felt your head move…" she murmured quixotically, both stern and sensual… "both of them," she whispered only for his ears.

"See you in the morning," Ramza jibed gently towards the two, earning himself another elbow, one replaced by her hand resting and beginning to knead his chest as he reached under her with his trapped hand and tossed the deep green and fuzzy blanket over the two of them. 

Alicia and Lavian laughed with and at him for that bold statement. As they closed the door, Alicia poked her head in for a parting shot. "Take care of her for us Ramza… real," she emphasized with a conspiratorial air, "real good care."

Author's Notes

The story refuses to fade away, and in truth, its what my original projects have taken their wings from. Hopefully, my style can evolve or at least recapture what it was before.

Oh yes, the footnotes:

Barque: A shallow-draft boat with triangular sails. Effective only in calm, coastal waters.

Hopefully, Agrias and Ramza's maturity has begun to show, as well as bit of introspection on who Ramza could have been, and the person he is becoming now.

A moment of peace for the two of them… perhaps I'll give them more.

Ramza isn't as naïve or innocent as he was in FFT, and likewise, I'm keeping Agrias away from the nun stereotype… humanizing her, even if it means stripping away some of her protective layers.

Author's Notes 


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